Humidity Ghosts
by AdmiralCats
Summary: Happy to be back in the Marines after a three-week punishment, Drake expects life to go on as normal. However, with relationships becoming strained and a very tantalizing offer from Dr. Delhoun up in the air, Drake begins to struggle with finding where his place in life truly is.
1. Chapter 1

I tried to busy myself by going on and getting a new journal because the other one is almost full, but that's not the only reason I decided to just disappear into the base's store for a few hours. Last night was . . . a bit of a wild ride, so to say.

Last month, I was sentenced to three weeks on an orbital hospital station because I threatened to hit Bishop, our android, during a mission to the frozen hell of LV-400. As soon as I was released, we got a task to the equally hellish moon of a gas giant that some say is the same location the Seegson station _Sevastopol_ used to be. Some business with pirates getting their hands on some floating debris that could prove useful to Weyland-Yutani. That was all we were told, and after spending some time with the nutty-but-nice Doctor Delhoun, I've found myself thinking way too hard about the things we do.

Anyway, we spent about a week on that moon. The atmosphere was not breathable, so we spent a week in bulky suits. All I kept thinking about were the silver flowers being studied on the hospital station, and how I made the mistake of going near them-twice. These flowers aren't harmless little daisies. They give off a hallucinogenic fume that'll restrict your breathing and eventually kill you if you don't leave the area in time. I was thinking about how often I had a mask strapped to my face or machinery stuck in me. I know I was in the spacesuit longer than I was in a hospital, but the nerves and fear and memories were beginning to piss me off.

There were other little tasks we did, and we caught a break yesterday. We were dropped off on Earth, at a good-sized base a hundred miles off the coast off the northeast coast of Australia, and I made the decision to talk to Vasquez. Alone.

I waited until the other Marines left the mess hall, and then approached Vasquez. We really didn't get the chance to talk ever since my sentence was up, so this came as a bit of a relief. I mean, we talked during missions and such, but not like this. "Hey, you got a minute?" I asked.

"What for?" she replied.

"Well, we haven't seen each other in awhile, and I was wondering if we could just . . . sit and talk."

"You're not gonna cry, are you? I don't know what they did to you when you were gone, but I sure do hope they didn't make you a crybaby."

I shook my head. "Trust me, honey, I am not a crybaby."

Vasquez sighed. "Alright, Drake, what do you want?"

I leaned in to whisper. "Is your door unlocked at night?"

"No. It never is. Why?"

I glanced around again. "Let me come by around twenty hundred hours."

"I thought you weren't interested in sex, Drake."

I coughed, trying to tell her to keep her voice down. "I never said that."

"You did after the first time."

I snorted. "That's because it was my first time. I didn't know what I was getting into."

"Then, why do you want to do this, Drake? Is it because you were lonely? Now you're just oh-so happy to see me that the first thing you wanna do when we're alone is fuck?"

"Vasquez-"

"I don't want to hear it." She pointed in the direction of her bedroom. "Go on. Let's get it over with. May as well do it now rather than wait."

"Hey, we can-"

She put a finger to my lips. "I would rather do it now than sit and think about it so morons like Hudson can sense that we're up to no good. Do you understand what I'm saying, or am I speaking in Spanish to you?"

I grinned. "You only talk Spanish when you're angry."

"Don't make me slap you. I actually missed you, and slapping Hudson just wasn't the same."

"Wait . . . you slapped Hudson? I thought that was reserved for me."

"I thought it would make me feel better. It didn't, so, be happy. Besides, I'm going to have sex with _you_. Doesn't that say something?"

I shrugged. "Alright. Makes sense."

"Good. Oh, and wear protection. There's a difference between fun and stupid."

* * *

I lay in bed with Vasquez thinking about what I had just done. Frankly, I harbored little shame, considering we both agreed to it. I glanced at her, and she was smiling at me. A sarcastic smile, but still.

"Are you proud of yourself?" she asked.

"Uh, that depends. Was my performance-"

"Your performance was fine. I meant your decision to do that." Vasquez sat up, looking at me. "Honestly, though, what does this . . . say about us? We've been keeping this a secret from everyone. We like it that way. It's not like we're going to come out and tell everyone we're seeing each other. We-"

I shrugged. "What's the big deal? Nobody knows."

"Well, do you think we're taking anything forward? Do you think we're always going to be . . . that pair of soldiers who do shit like this behind everyone's back, or do you think there's something else out there for us? I know you're sick and tired of not getting paid enough."

"Of course I am, but we requested to be put in the same unit together for a reason. We both came from nothing and have something that's been working out great for us, even if the pay does suck. Come on, our . . . relationship isn't about this. I don't know why you're so frustrated about me asking to do this."

She sighed, rubbing her face before lying back down. "Drake, when you were gone for those three weeks, we did get the occasional report on you and how you were doing. One morning, I woke up and Bishop told all of us that something happened on the hospital station and you almost died. He didn't specify what exactly happened, but he did say that you were lost once and they had to bring you back with a defibrillator. That got me thinking about us and our friendship. What would I do without you? We've been through so much together and it's almost as if we've become a part of each other. Now . . . you're back and you don't seem to want to take anything forward beyond what we've already been doing for a long time."

"That's because it's not possible. Honestly, everything that happened to me on that med station was a new experience for me, and I kinda have this sense of relief that I was able to do something . . . different. I'm back in the Marines, and I ready for things to get back to the way they were. Just us, kicking ass, and maybe doing the occasional crazy shit behind everyone's back."

Vasquez glanced at me, breathing another sigh. "OK. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe I was being silly about the fact that you almost died. Don't get me wrong, Drake, I can function perfectly on my own. Our experiences together don't matter. I'll do especially fine on my own if the last thing you do is forget to think before you speak."

"I thought before I spoke."

"Clearly, you did not."

"Hey, listen, I-"

Someone knocked on the door, and we heard Bishop say, "Vasquez? Can I come in?"

She panicked a little, and shoved me out of bed, hissing, "Hide! Get under the bed, now!" As I forced myself under the bed, she called, "You can come in, Bishop."

"Were you . . . having a conversation with someone in here?" Bishop asked as he opened the door.

"No. Why?"

"Huh. Thought I heard Drake in here with you. Maybe I need to have diagnostics run on me. Anyway, Apone said to tell everyone that we've been invited to a military banquet tomorrow evening over in Brisbane, Australia."

"Aren't those things for officers?"

"It was something about getting to meet other platoons and discussing combat strategies, also procedures regarding your designated artificial person."

"Fine. Don't expect me to get dressed up, though."

When Bishop left, I crawled out from under the bed. "Military banquet? That's not gonna go over well."

"Not like you have a choice," Vasquez replied.

"I'm not getting dressed up, either."

* * *

"You _are_ getting dressed up, Private!" Apone shouted at me in the morning at breakfast. "All of you sweethearts are getting dressed up! We want to look good, look like we _care_ about not just the Colonial Marines as a whole, but about ourselves and how we present ourselves to others as well."

"Can I wear a pink bowtie, Sarge?" Hudson asked.

" _No, you may not!_ Sit your ass back down, Hudson."

At this point, I was thinking about how I'd rather have Winnie, Delhoun's Annexer, watch me sleep than get dressed up for a banquet. "Fuck this," I grumbled.

"What was that, Drake?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Good. I want all of you gentlemen to go get measured and get yourselves in a nice new set of dress blues. Ladies, if you wanna wear a dress, it better be appropriate, because I am not having you embarrass me or my Corps tonight."

Basically, getting measured for dress uniforms was no different than when doctors were poking at me the morning I left the station. It was irritating. I hated it. Hudson was no help considering he made fun of everyone. I knew deep down he cared, but he was trying too hard in making people feel better about this.

The thing about dress uniforms is that wearing them is the only time you get to show off any medals you received. I don't have any, and seeing guys like Hudson, Hicks, and Apone wearing them fostered a twinge of jealousy in my gut. Even Vasquez has a medal for marksmanship, but she's not wearing it tonight because she's in a dress.

I could tell she wasn't too happy about it. It's not in her nature to get all dressed up and pretty. I figured the least I could do was not be a pain in the ass and tell her that she looked pretty-in the nicest way I could.

We caught a brief moment alone about fifteen minutes before we were going to fly out to Brisbane. I saw Vasquez looking at herself in a mirror, and she didn't do half-bad with choosing her evening dress. Dark-green actually looks pretty good on her. At least, _I_ thought so.

Then again, we still had the issue of our little fight last night. I felt my stomach sink as I approached Vasquez, hoping she'd put our problems aside for the next few hours. "Hey," I said, trying to sound somewhat encouraging, "you look nice."

"Thanks." She looked at me. "You look like you got a broomstick shoved up your ass and taped to your spine."

I took a breath. "Well, thanks. It's very hard to slouch in this uniform."

"That might be the point, you know."

I made an effort to smile, occasionally looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was trying to walk in on us. "So, um . . . are you looking forward to this?"

"Drake, are you stupid? No, I'm not looking forward to this. It's just a big show where we stand around and look pretty and the only people who get to talk are guys like Apone."

I shrugged. "Maybe there'll be food, and hopefully it won't be leftover rations somebody dug up in a storage unit." My stomach grumbled when I began thinking about the fresh, hot breakfasts Delhoun would make just about every morning. There was always coffee and rare gems like bacon and peanut butter and fruit, and Delhoun once made a spiked citrus drink.

"Go ahead, Drake, keep hoping."

Her tone was a little sarcastic. I got the feeling she was still upset about last night. "Vasquez? Are you . . . still angry about some of the things I said last night?"

"No, not at all. No, I'm just going to shove all that under the rug. I'm just going to throw away all of our past experiences, and I'm going to pretend I never met you."

I folded my arms over my chest. "Would a 'sorry' help?"

"No. It would not."

"Would a speech about how I'm sorry I didn't have a sappy conversation with you _before_ sex about how much I missed you and how when I was laid up in hospital I was thinking about you and Hudson and Apone and Hicks and Bishop and everyone else who's cared about me and how they would've been devastated if I actually died?"

Vasquez looked away from me, but I could still make eye contact with her through the mirror. She knows I don't lie to her. I may cover up some stuff regarding my emotions, but that's it.

Then again, we're both terrible when it comes to expressing how we feel about each other. It comes from being in juvenile detention facilities where any expression of emotion is a sign of weakness. It was how we survived.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I contemplated doing one of these in both of my previous entries, but decided against it because it didn't feel professional. However, I figured I'd give a short little note here because I want to thank everyone who's been enjoying my work. It's nice to see people who appreciate good writing and are invested in the story.  
_

 _Drake's a fun character to write, and, yes, to quote one of the guest comments on "Boreal Nightmare," it's a pity he wasn't explored further. I actually had a question about seeing Drake in a novel featured in a YouTube video (search "Xenobucket 3", or go to Alien Theory's channel, if you're curious to see it), and having those two minutes of hearing someone agree with me that a story told completely from Drake's perspective would be interesting has been a major driving force behind this series. I hope to continue it with several more short story to novella-length pieces, but I don't want it to get boring or repetitive._

 _This story in particular will be a primarily "human" one-focusing more on internal conflict and the development of several aspects of the relationship of Drake and Vasquez. I personally feel they had a romantic relationship of some sorts, and may have tried to hide it over the years from everyone around them. I think exploring that in a mature, emotional (with a tiny bit of fluff) way makes for an interesting story._

 _Enjoy. - Cat_


	2. Chapter 2

The flight to Brisbane was painfully quiet, except for Hudson asking if there was going to be dancing and who would be dancing with who. He just had to go up to me and Vasquez and touch our shoulders and ask if we'd be dancing with each other. It took a lot of strength for me not to punch him, and I think Vasquez felt the same way. Being on our best behavior is hard and easy at the same time.

I wasn't even sure I wanted to sit next to Vasquez on the flight. She didn't give me a reply when I said I was sorry, and I took that as a cue that I shouldn't talk to her at all over the course of the evening. I honestly felt bad about what I had done and said, and I wished I could take it all back.

I also hoped that no one around us could sense something was going on. I'd prefer that our issues remained between me and Vasquez only.

When we arrived in Brisbane, Apone made some of the guys the escorts of the ladies, and he paired Vasquez with Hicks, because, and I quote, he didn't want "funny business." Man, he'd be more pissed than a wet hen if he found out about the fling Vasquez and I had last night.

I didn't have a partner. That much I'll say. I was with the back with the other guys, marching into the banquet hall. I saw three other units inside, all standing in formation, waiting for us to enter so everyone could be ordered to fall out and sit down. The hall was dimly lit, with a few chandeliers hanging high above us. There were heavy curtains draped in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, all closed as the sun had began setting just a few minutes ago. A deep red-orange hue still penetrated through, casting long shadows around the hall. Every table already had nametags on plates and glasses of water. Everyone had to adopt a "get fancy" attitude, which, I felt, would be hard considering we're all battle-hardened grunts.

There was a table where the VIPs and squad commanders were assigned, and I saw a familiar face that stood out, mainly due to its stark paleness and ruby-red eyes. _What the fuck is Delhoun doing here?_ I couldn't turn and face him, but I could see him from the corner of my eye. He was holding a glass of champagne, and smiling. I felt an icicle slide down my spine, like I knew he was watching me.

We were dismissed, and dispersed to our tables. I was sitting with Hicks, Vasquez, and three guys from other squadrons. I wasn't paying attention to anything anyone was saying; in fact, I was glancing at Vasquez, even though I knew she didn't want to talk to me.

One of the soldiers I didn't know was talking about desert warfare and giant centipede-like creatures he and his men faced not that long ago on LV-155. Part of my brain was going back to Annexers, and how there's no way they would let giant centipedes fuck around with them.

Occasionally, I looked over at Delhoun. He was chatting with some of the generals and what appeared to be other scientists. He was probably here on some important business, and not interested in talking to me. At least, that was my first thought. I knew he was probably planning on talking to me at some point during the night.

I was bored and hungry. Hicks was managing the conversation and Vasquez was talking about some of the missions we've been on. The other guys were glancing at me, wondering if I was mute or something. Finally, I got up and headed over to the table covered with appetizers. The feeling of being left out probably wouldn't have occurred if I didn't make Vasquez upset last night. She wasn't referring to me by name, just as "the other smartgunner." My heart sped up every time she said that, and I was certain it was some kind of revenge-making me feel like nothing.

Hey, at least there was one person _not_ making me feel like nothing: good ol' Doctor Delhoun.

"What a pleasure to see you again, Drake," he said, softly, after approaching me.

"Pleasure seeing you, too," I muttered, placing a chicken wing on my plate.

He nodded. "I noticed your teammates aren't including you much in their conversations. That's not the purpose of this banquet, now, is it?"

"It's a long story."

Delhoun smiled a little, but his eyes conveyed sympathy. "Conflicts going on between you and them?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"I sense, ah . . ." He glanced over at Vasquez, "you're experiencing some rather heavy sexual tension with that young lady over there."

If I didn't know Delhoun, I would've slammed him into the table and strangled him, but I did know him, and I gave a sigh. "How'd you know?"

"If there's one thing we have in common with animals, it's sex. However, we have infused it with the idea of love, and it's created a very complicated side of psychology. I'm merely reading your body language. You're looking at her, you seem . . . upset with her. She seems upset with you."

"Well, you're not wrong."

Delhoun took a sip of his champagne. "Of course I'm not wrong. I watched something similar occur with an Annexer just last year."

"Look," I whispered, "I'd much rather discuss this with you in private. Can we do that?"

"We can do that," Delhoun replied. "Later, though. We'll slip outside when everyone is better distracted."

I clenched my fists, not wanting to wait. I took a deep breath, and let out a sigh. "Fine. I'll wait."

* * *

The conversations at the dinner table continued to be boring and Vasquez continued to ignore me, until one of the other soldiers sitting near me, a corporal named McKay, I think, leaned over to say, "I don't think we've been introduced to you, yet."

I glanced at him, and heard my inner voice say, " _It's been this long and this dumbass just noticed you?" He may as well have punched me in the gut at this point. "Name's Drake," I said, forcing myself to not look irritated._

"Rifle or-"

"Smartgunner."

"Ah, you must be the other smartgunner Private Vasquez has been referring to."

For the first time that evening, I made direct eye contact with Vasquez. I was glaring at her, letting her know I was not happy with how she'd been treating me. "Yes, yes, I am. I'm actually very good at what I do, and, clearly, my talent shouldn't be overlooked."

And, for the first time that evening, Vasquez spoke to me. "Drake, _I_ got a marksmanship medal. _You_ did not."

I grinned. "I'm well aware of that."

Vasquez bit her lip, not wanting to announce our problems to a bunch of people we didn't know. I could only hope this would force her into talking to me. Maybe not now, but definitely later. I tried to soften my gaze, make myself seem like I genuinely wanted to talk and not fight.

McKay was flicking his gaze between us, and then looked at Hicks. "Is there low morale in your unit?" He didn't sound snotty or acted like this was something over major concern; in fact, he sounded like he wanted to help, and that was the last thing I wanted.

Hicks shook his head. "Nope, just these two have a bad habit of acting petty in public places."

McKay looked at me. "A pair of jokers?"

I snorted. "No."

* * *

My stomach couldn't seem to decide if it was nervous or hungry. There were times throughout the evening where I felt like I was starving and times where I just didn't want to eat. The only alcohol available was champagne, and I wished it were a little stronger. The meal courses were small, and I had to mind my manners, no matter how much I just wanted to shove an entire scallop in my mouth like nobody's business.

We didn't have to stay in one spot. Hicks and Vasquez occasionally got up to go talk to other people, as did McKay and his buddies. I didn't move. In fact, I wanted to cry, and I wasn't doing that in front of people.

I glanced over to the VIP table. Delhoun was talking to Apone, and I figured neither of them were interested in talking to me. I wondered if Delhoun brought Winnie along, but I also knew Delhoun was smart and probably didn't because Winnie can be a real pain in the ass when she wants to be.

When dessert was served, I realized I had done nothing but sit and mope this entire banquet. I had barely talked to anyone, and I was probably going to get my ass chewed because of my behavior. Wouldn't be the first time. Definitely wouldn't be the last. I can't tell anyone about what was bothering me-well, except Delhoun.

I had stuck my fork into the cake covered in hot fudge when someone tapped my shoulder. I looked up to see Delhoun, holding his coat and smiling faintly.

"Let's go take a walk," he said, quietly.

Grabbing my cap, I followed him out the main door. It wasn't completely dark out, but the moon was hovering just above the Pacific Ocean. All across Brisbane, skyscrapers were lighting up and the nightlife was beginning to emerge.

We kept walking until we came to a boardwalk, where Delhoun leaned against the railing, looking out at the water. We were completely alone, with the gentle buzz of the city behind us. "Alright, Drake, tell me what's going on."

I'll never be able to explain why I trust Delhoun. Maybe it's because he saved my life multiple times and did his best to be helpful, emotionally. I stood next to him, also looking at the water, and sighed. "Can you promise not to say anything to anyone?"

"If you're making it a promise, I'll guard it with my life."

"Thanks. Anyway . . . well . . . Vasquez and I . . . we've known each other since juvenile prison. Went to boot camp together, and . . . I guess we started having feelings for each other. I mean, we don't get all mushy and say 'I love you' all the time, but, we like each other. When I got back from the hospital station, we didn't get to talk right away, and our first chance to actually have a real conversation was last night. I think I was feeling a little deprived, so I asked if we could, you know, go into her room and have sex. We did, and then Vasquez asked where our relationship was going. I wasn't sure what she meant by that question. She then told me that we need a change in our lives, all because she had heard about what happened to me with the silver flowers, how I almost died."

"She started thinking about what would've happened if you never returned?"

"Exactly. I guess I made it sound like I didn't care, like what happened wasn't a big deal. I mean, what did she expect? A near-death experience would make me want to change everything? That I'm concerned about my mortality and that I want to spend my every waking hour with her?"

Delhoun thought for a moment. "Think about it from her side for a moment, Drake: what would happen if she went through the same thing? Wouldn't you be worried? Wouldn't you want to spend just a little extra time with her because of that worry?"

"I don't know. I don't want that to happen, but, I'd have to experience it in order to know." I rubbed my face. "I just didn't expect her to take it out on me all day. She kinda mockingly told me she overreacted, and is going to pretend she never met me. I offered an apology. She didn't take it."

"This is something you two should work out on your own, for sure." Delhoun shook his head. "There's nothing I, personally, can do, other than give you some advice."

"I know."

"But, and this is something I want you to think about, I do have something that would definitely bring about some change in your life. You don't need to make a decision right now, but I want you to listen."

"I'm listening."

"Over the last year, I have organized a facility, here in Brisbane, to help Annexers rescued from space smugglers. The facility is meant to care for them and make them ready for adoption, or, if they can't be adopted, return them to the wild. What I also do is assist people looking to adopt by teaching them and giving them a chance to see these animals firsthand because of how challenging they can be."

"You do this all by yourself?"

"Not entirely, no. I have some help. What I'm looking for is _your_ help. You have experience with wild Annexers on LV-400, and you managed to bond with my Winnie. I think this would be a brilliant opportunity for you."

I sighed. The last thing I wanted was to quit the Marines, especially for something like this. However . . . "Will I get paid?"

"Handsomely. Very, very handsomely. Think about this. If you want, you can come to the facility for a week and see if you really like it or not."

I was willing to test whether or not I liked Delhoun's idea, but my biggest fear was that I _would_ like it. So much so that I wanted to quit the Marines. What would I tell the others? I'm quitting to go work with _pets?_ The thought made me feel sick. I would leave in complete disgrace. That was not how I wanted to go.

Still, Delhoun was a friend. I don't have a lot of friends, therefore I think it'd be decent of me to at least try this for him to make him happy.


	3. Chapter 3

I returned to the banquet hoping to get a chance to talk to Vasquez in private. Honestly, I didn't think that was going to happen, but it didn't hurt to try. I guess Hudson was right about the dancing. Someone started playing really slow classical music and everyone interested partnered up . . . and I saw Vasquez with McKay.

My stomach clenched hard. I felt like someone was squeezing it like a ball of Play-Doh. I could've just puked right then and there, in front of everyone. Everything below my chest hurt.

So many thoughts were running through my head. I absentmindedly rubbed my arm, and I began shivering as I resisted the urge to throw a chair across the room. I sighed, looking down at the floor. Chills ran through me, and I couldn't swallow past the lump in my throat.

I struggled to look stoic. I wanted to confront Vasquez, but I couldn't bring myself to do so.

Turning to look for Delhoun, I knew it didn't take very long for me to make a decision regarding working at his Annexer facility for a week. I didn't think Vasquez was going to take our arguments to a different level. She was doing this to spite me, to make me feel like a moron.

I took a breath, trying to keep my emotions at bay. I couldn't act on them here. I couldn't act on them anywhere.

* * *

We returned to base late at night. I didn't talk to anyone, afraid that if I spoke, I was going to unleash a torrent of rage.

The first thing I did was lock myself in my room. I threw off my dress uniform, and sat on the bed in my shorts, with my head in my hands. I was going to regret this forever, wasn't I?

I've been laying here with my journal propped up against my legs since nine-thirty. It's eleven-thirty now, and the base is so quiet, you can hear a pin drop. I can't believe I had this much to say about the stupid banquet. I can't believe all this happened at the stupid banquet.

Not sure what else to say. I can't fall asleep. I already tried an hour ago. I just can't sleep. I wish I could.

* * *

I somehow fell asleep around one in the morning, and woke up with the journal laying on my chest. To think, the night before, I was sleeping with Vasquez. Last night, I was not.

I was awake before anyone else was. Considering we were doing nothing, I could leave the base if I wanted to. I just had to be back by a certain time, and let everyone else know where I was going. Delhoun had left me a paper containing the information about his . . . Annexer care facility. I showed it to the MPs by the gate, and told them I'd be back by around six PM. Needless to say, I felt like they were looking at me strange once my back was turned.

The only thing that even remotely said I was military were my dogtags. It felt nice to be in civilian clothing after wearing a stiff uniform last night. It felt nice to not be in that setting anymore.

Then again, I haven't been in a civilian setting in a very long time. Walking in downtown Brisbane was foreign to me. There was a dream-like essence about it. It seemed to be calling me, and not in the way adventure calls to a character in a book; it was more like a quiet call, a soft beckon, a whisper, saying, "Come here. Sit. Do nothing. There's a whole part of you that you don't know exists and I want you to find out what that is."

It just made Delhoun's job offer all the more tempting.

Delhoun's facility was an old high school that was vacated after the district decided to move it to another part of the city. Why Delhoun got it is a completely different story. Either way, I walked up to the main door, and glanced up to see a camera staring down at me. A minute later, a familiar voice said, "Bright and early, Drake? I didn't expect you here so soon."

"That's a bit of a story," I replied. "Can you let me in?"

"Of course I can!" About ten minutes, Delhoun appeared at the door, dressed in an oversized, dirty, gray, terry-cloth bathrobe, carrying a blanketed bundle in his arms. He shifted the bundle to his left arm, and unlocked the door. "Sorry about the wait. So, what brings you here so early?"

I shrugged. "Vasquez was trying to spite me last night."

"Spite you? How?" Delhoun shifted the bundle again, and I saw a little black nose sticking out of it.

"She was dancing with someone else."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that. I'm guessing you haven't tried talking to her about this?"

"No. I'm . . . I'm not ready. I'm still angry about it, and I'd rather cool off so I don't make this worse because this is all my fault. Everything's my fault."

"No, everything is not your fault, Drake. Tell you what: come on in, and I'll show you around. You're lucky; it's just you and me today. You, me, and all the residents."

I sighed, hoping this would help me relax. "So, who's that?" I pointed to the blanket.

"This is Pumpkin. He's only a week old."

Nestled within the blanket was a baby Annexer. He looked just like Winnie, except there was no white on his forehead or ears. His eyes were wide, and he appeared to be shaking.

"This isn't going to be diaper duty, is it?" I asked.

"No," Delhoun replied. "Cleaning up after the babies is important, though. Pumpkin's got a cold, so, I'm taking care of him until he gets better." He held out the bundle. "You can hold him, if you want."

I took the blanket, and watched as Pumpkin lifted his head, jaws slightly parted. He had a nice set of sharp, white teeth, and he was sniffling and grunting at me. "What? A week old and you're already gonna be a little jerk?" I said.

Pumpkin sneezed. In my face.

I grimaced as Delhoun took him away. "That's disgusting," I mumbled. "Now, I'm gonna get sick."

Delhoun handed me a tissue. "It's just a cold," he said.

He took me deeper into the building, until we came to a good-sized room that was full of large pens and cages. Annexers were screaming and cooing all over the place. Some of them were trotting around as if they owned the place.

But, they all stopped to look at me. Every single one of them.

Delhoun smirked. "They've taken an interest in you. That's a good sign."

"Some of them might be wanting to piss on me," I said.

I'm guessing the babies aren't ready for masks. They were the only ones not dressed up. Some of the adult Annexers looked terrified. They huddled in the darkest corners of their kennels, whining.

Delhoun didn't make eye contact with me. "Those are the ones we recently rescued from space smugglers. I would strongly advise you do not handle them without my supervision. They are anxious, uncomfortable, and they can be extremely violent if you don't use the right precautions." He looked at me, not saying another word. "You've been forewarned. That's not the only thing you'll need to be cautious of."

We walked by another series of cages, and I jumped back when an Annexer lunged against the bars, sticking their paw out with claws extended. It hissed and growled at me, and continued to try and swipe at me.

Delhoun pulled a bottle from one of the pockets on his robe, and sprayed water at the Annexer. Instantly, it backed off, but it was still snarling at me. "That's Dakota," Delhoun said. "I'm going to need your help removing her so we can get her babies."

"Is she . . . a problem?" I asked, feeling a little nervous about putting my hand in the cage of an aggressive animal.

"Sure is. She was rescued a year ago, and we're still trying to tame her, make her comfortable with us, but she won't give in. She had a litter a month ago, and we're trying to make the babies comfortable with humans."

"And you want me to help you . . . move her so we can get the babies?"

Delhoun nodded, and pulled a pair of heavy rubber gloves from one of his pockets. "Put these on, and listen to every instruction I give you."

I wasn't sure this was a good idea. I felt tense as I put on the gloves, waiting for Delhoun to give me instructions. He put on gloves of his own, and took a syringe out of a kit. As he put his hand on the cage lock, he said, "When I open the door, grab her ribs, squeeze, and pull her out. I'll get her head and give her the sedative."

I took a breath. "Alright. Whatever you say."

Delhoun looked back at the cage. "Ready? One . . . two . . . _three!"_ He threw open the cage, and I reached in to grab Dakota. She screamed, and writhed around, trying to scratch me. Her claws caught on the gloves, but that didn't stop her. She kept on screaming as I dragged her out of the cage, and then squirmed from my grip to scratch my face.

Involuntarily, I let go of her to cover my face. Wetness formed on the left side, and pain was searing around my eye.

"It's alright, Drake, it's alright," Delhoun said. "She's out. I got her." He was holding a limp Annexer, and set her down to pull my hands from my face. "Let me see. Oh, that's nasty . . . follow me." He quickly led me down the hall and into a white room that I assumed was for medical purposes. "Sit," Delhoun said, opening a cabinet and taking out a kit.

I couldn't force myself to open my left eye, and I was really afraid that damn animal had cut it or something.

Delhoun pressed a paper towel soaked with water against the scratch, waiting thirty seconds before pulling it away. "Alright, Drake," he sighed, "You got lucky. She didn't get your eye." He took a cottonball, put a drop of rubbing alcohol on it, and put that on the wound. I flinched with the cold stinging of the alcohol. "That'll leave a good scar," Delhoun said. "It'll heal, nicely, though." He then took my head, slowly forcing open my left eye. "No blood, just tears."

The entire left side of my face felt like it was throbbing as Delhoun applied a bandage to the cut. I still wanted to keep my eye shut, but Delhoun said I was overreacting and anxious.

"I've had worse," he added.

"From other Annexers?" I asked.

"Oh, no. From Dakota." He lifted the right sleeve of his robe, showing me a network of scars running up and down his arm. "It's getting to the point where she's unadoptable and turning her back to the wild might kill her. Not sure what else to do. If it does get worse . . . she'll have to be put down. It isn't fair to her having to go through life afraid of everything and her best reaction is to attack, and it isn't fair for her young."

"Why's she like this?"

Delhoun leaned against the wall. "Well, she was taken by a group of pirates from LV-400, somewhere near the Equator. I've estimated she was fairly young, maybe five years old, maybe a little older. She was used as a fighter in an illegal dogfighting ring down in Sydney, and her monetary value kept going up the more she fought and won. Naturally, other rings wanted to get ahold of her. Some gang broke into the kennels, took her, and brought her back to their lair. She fought dogs, other Annexers, and then turned on her handlers. Truly bloody mess that was. Took two tranquilizer darts to take her out." He shook his head. "Probably wasn't the best way to introduce her to this place. She woke up and the first thing she did was break out of her pen. You can imagine how scared she was, being in such an unfamiliar place. She may've thought this was just another fighting base.

"Eventually, we put her in a more secure cage, gave her room, left her alone, made sure she had food and water, and, sure enough, she broke out again. When we found her, we saw she had gotten into the pen of a male. They didn't attack each other, and it seemed like this was the key to getting Dakota to calm down and become tame. A week later, we discovered she was pregnant, and she remained somewhat mellow for the next six months. She didn't like being handled, and we couldn't tranquilize her too often or else it could hurt the babies, so we left her alone. A month ago, I went by her cage to find four little ones all nestled against her. Other than that, not much has changed, and several of my colleagues agree that it's best for the babies to be around people more frequently to know that we're not going to hurt them. Some of them think that if Dakota sees us handling them and not hurting them, she'll grow to trust us."

"And . . . you want _me_ to handle the babies?"

Delhoun nodded. "I think you can make some kind of connection with Dakota. You've both had a bit of a tumultuous past, and I think you can show her that things can change for the better."

I snorted. "How the fuck is she gonna know that?"

"You'd be surprised at how far developed an Annexer's brain is. They can get to know you by watching you and listening to you and smelling you. Try it; stand near her cage later today and see what she does."

* * *

Dakota wasn't going to wake up for another two hours. In the meantime, Delhoun was going to let me play with the babies. He took me down to the old gym, and had me sit in an enclosure.

"Let them come to you," he said while setting each of them into the pen. "I'm going to give Pumpkin his medicine, and then I'll be back to check on you. Have fun, Drake."

The four little guys watched Delhoun until he left the room, and then they looked at me. No, they _stared_ at me with their huge blue eyes, probably wondering who this new human was.

I shrugged. "Hey, if you hate me, I'm not gonna care."

One of them started crawling over to me. He sniffed me excitedly, and then pulled himself onto my lap. He sat on my leg for a few second, then began cautiously approaching my torso.

The others followed his lead, and began examining me at their own pace. One was crawling up my back with his tiny claws dug into my shirt. Another was hugging my right arm, and a third was chewing the laces of my boots.

I figured I had to give them names, because writing "that one" over and over again gets boring. The one chewing my boots was named Dopey. The one on my back was named Alfalfa (because there was a tuft of fur on his head sticking up, like the character in _The Little Rascals_ ). The one hugging my arm was named Teddy, and the one perched on my leg was named Nutjob.

Alfalfa had managed to climb on my shoulder, sniffed my ear, and then jumped onto my head. I tried staying as still as possible as he lay in my hair, but I drew the line at him chewing it. Quickly, I grabbed him and set him on the floor, giving him a stern "No."

Dopey decided to join his brother on my leg, but he was much bolder than Nutjob, and proceeded to latch on my shirt and climb up. The cautious Nutjob then began slowly climbing up my shirt as well, but he didn't get as far as Dopey, because he found a pocket and crawled in. He could barely fit, but he didn't care; he had his right ear up against my chest, and I guess the sound of my heartbeat was calming to him. I stroked the top of his head with one finger, and remained focused on him for a few minutes.

So, I'll consider it a good thing that Nutjob took an instant liking to me. He was calm and quiet and didn't make a lot of fuss. After twenty minutes of just sitting with them, Delhoun returned, fully dressed, and holding two cups of coffee.

"Getting along?" he asked.

"Well, I haven't had my fingers bitten off, so, I guess we are," I replied.

"Good." Delhoun entered the enclosure, handing me one of the cups. "I haven't taken the time to name the little ones, but-"

"Dopey, Nutjob, Alfalfa, Teddy."

I could tell Delhoun wasn't impressed, but he should've expected complete stupidity considering I once named an Annexer "Little Shit." He was quiet for a moment, and didn't argue with me. "I really hope this works out," he sighed. "I know this is just a test run for you. If you choose to come back, fine. If not, that's alright. I'll find someone else."

* * *

 _Author's Note: Ever wondered where that scar near Drake's left eye came from? Now you know.  
_

 _I really hope the incident regarding Drake seeing Vasquez dancing with someone else doesn't come off as cheesy. I did want to poke some fun at the projected cheesiness of it by having Drake say something like, "This had all the makings of a bad rom-com," but I couldn't find a good point where it would be appropriate. Maybe I'll add it in. I felt like using this trope was good for the plot, as it expands the emotional gap between the two characters and adds some tension to their already strained relationship. I felt like Drake wasn't ready to talk to Vasquez yet, and I also needed a catalyst for him to decide to go to Delhoun's Annexer rescue center. It could make the scene where they finally talk all the more satisfying._


	4. Chapter 4

Taking care of baby Annexers (which Delhoun says are called "kits") is no different than taking care of any other animal baby, and it's not all cute and cuddly. It took me forever to feed Dakota's four little guys.

Nutjob was the easiest to feed. He let me cradle him and stick a bottle in his mouth and he sucked away happily. Alfalfa kept wanting to squirm away, but he was calm once I got the bottle in between his teeth. Dopey, instead of sucking out the milk, deciding biting the rubber nipple clean off was a much better game, so I had milk all over my lap.

"And this is why 'Dopey' is stuck with you forever," I said.

He squealed at me.

Teddy, the only girl in the litter, was really shy. She was fine with being in the crook of my arm, but she didn't take the bottle right away. She kept looking at me like I was big and strange and unfamiliar, which I am, but she did eventually take it when I wasn't looking right at her.

They were all a lot less playful after milk, but they still wanted to explore me, so I lay on my back and let them crawl on me. I took that time to think about Vasquez, and how I still didn't know what to say to her next time I saw her. There was a part of me that wanted to get mad and tell her how stupid it was ignoring me and spiting me by dancing with another guy, but some other part of me said that was wrong and becoming angry would only make things worse.

I still feel like it was all my fault, even though Delhoun said it wasn't. He didn't see a thing, and the only reason he's saying anything is because he's trying to be helpful.

Sitting up, I tried rehearsing what I was going to say to Vasquez out loud. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Teddy tilted her head a little.

"It won't take very long. I just want to . . . you know, talk about the night at the banquet."

Dopey immediately raced away to pee on the bleachers.

"I just don't think that pretending I don't exist is the best way to handle this." I was hoping I didn't sound angry. I mean, here I sound calm, but how am I going to feel when I'm standing in front of Vasquez. "I want to talk about what happened. I want to . . . I don't want us to drift apart because of some misunderstandings or past incidents or anything like that. The whole reason you got upset was because I almost died. I know I almost died, but the fact that you're . . . acting like I was never part of your life hurts even more." I sighed, knowing there were a lot of things within that speech she'd probably argue with, but I felt like that was the best thing to say. "What do you think?" I asked the remaining Annexers in front of me.

Alfalfa was lying on his back, thumping his tail against the floor. Teddy still looked confused.

Dopey squealed as if to say, "Look, Drake, I'm pissing where I'm not supposed to!"

* * *

If taking the babies from Dakota was hard, putting them back had to be harder. She was backed into a corner of her cage, making it impossible for anyone to move her to put the babies back. Delhoun decided to order his Working Joe android to open the cage.

The creepy old Seegson android had no change in expression as it unlocked Dakota's cage, even as she hissed at it. The door opened, and she lunged at it, scratching its rubber face.

"You are becoming hysterical," the android said before stepping away from the cage. Sure, it could still talk in its robotic voice, but it couldn't do a damn thing unless Delhoun gave the order.

Getting the babies in the cage was another challenge. Delhoun put them on the floor below Dakota's cage, and left it up to them to return to their mother. Then he told me to be quiet, and sent his android back to his office.

Dakota put her head outside the cage, sniffing around. Delhoun looked nervous, and we were both hoping she didn't sense us and attack us. I also noticed the tranquilizer pistol on his belt, and I could only pray he didn't have to use it.

We didn't release our breaths until the babies were inside Dakota's cage and Delhoun closed the door, locking it swiftly before Dakota paid him any attention.

"I don't know how to thank you for your help, Drake," Delhoun said.

"Don't. I'm doing this for myself, to be honest with you," I replied with a shrug.

Delhoun smiled. "I can respect that in you. Not many people are willing to admit they want to work for themselves."

* * *

I returned to base that night feeling like I could sleep for the next day or so. I wished that were true, but the truth was that I had to go back to the center the next day.

That meant I could hang out with the four babies. Good.

That also meant I had to deal with Dakota. Bad.

I feel bad for her. She doesn't deserve to live like this, and I don't want to see her get put down. I kept thinking about what Delhoun said about me being possibly able to connect with Dakota because we've both had a rocky past, but there's a part of me that thinks it's going to take a lot for me to be able to get along with her, much less tame her.

My thoughts were interrupted when Vasquez entered the mess hall, and Hudson said, "Getting along with McKay? You know he's from another unit, right?"

I lost my appetite completely, even though I hadn't eaten much all day.

"It was a training exercise, dumbass," Vasquez replied. "I don't like McKay."

Hudson continued. "You say the same thing about Drake."

Please, somebody punch me.

"Drake is different. We've known each other a long time, and it's safe for me to say I hate him." Vasquez gave me a dirty look.

I hope Dakota rips my belly open and spills my guts all over the place. I felt a lump form in my throat, and I rubbed my face, struggling to control my emotions. Everything was going to boil to the surface.

"You OK, Drake?" Hicks asked.

I glanced at him across the table, trying to swallow back a ball of uncontrollable rage. "I'm alright. Why?"

"You look like you're about to be sick or something, and you've got a nick by your eye. Rough day out?"

Hudson smirked. "Who's the mystery woman, Drake?"

"What 'mystery woman?'" I snorted.

"Why else would you be out all day?"

"I wasn't out with a woman. Doctor Delhoun wanted my help with a project of his and I volunteered my time." I didn't want to talk anymore. I wanted to go hide somewhere.

When dinner was over, I hoped I could spend the rest of the night in my room, away from everyone. However, I knew that wasn't going to do much good; I can't keep distancing myself from the others, and I knew this was going to get worse if I didn't fix my relationship with Vasquez.

I tried to put on a brave face as I left my room, going to Vasquez's, and knocking on the door. I heard someone get out of the shower, yank a towel from a hook, and run over to open the door.

"What?" Vasquez snapped while looking me up and down. "What do you want?"

"Can't ignore me forever," I said. "I just . . . I want to talk, that's all. I want to make up for what I did wrong two nights ago. Please?"

Sighing, Vasquez let me in. "Fine. Make your case." She disappeared into the bathroom, emerging five minutes later in a T-shirt and shorts. Sitting on the bed next to me, she tossed her red bandana on the nightstand. "You wanna talk? Talk. But I don't have all night, and I'm not sleeping with you."

I took a breath, trying to remember what I rehearsed in front of the baby Annexers earlier. "Well . . . I don't think pretending I don't exist is the best way to handle this. You know, I don't want us to . . . to drift apart. I know you were upset because I almost died, and I'm sorry that I didn't . . . didn't come back wanting to push things forward. I'm sorry I didn't change. Hey, I thought you liked that about me; I thought you liked that I'm stubborn."

All I got from her was silence. I saw her wipe tears from her right eye, and she looked away, hoping I didn't see that.

"Isn't it important that I'm still alive?" I was layering on the tough questions and statements. I was making her think.

"Drake?"

"Yes?"

"Get out."

Not wanting to argue, I stood up, leaving her room without another word. The door closed behind me, and I paused, turning around. I could hear her sobbing, and my heart wrenched a little. Vasquez didn't cry. Ever. I don't know what I did, but I made her cry, and I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be proud of that or not.

* * *

Pumpkin was still a shivering mess when I saw him in the morning. Taking a medicine dropper, I tried sticking it in the little guy's mouth, but he looked away from me, giving a sad whine.

Delhoun watched, standing with his arms folded over his chest. After three attempts to give Pumpkin his medicine, Delhoun took him away from me, and forced the dropper in Pumpkin's mouth. "I know he's a baby," Delhoun said, "but he needs the medicine if he's going to get better."

"Sorry," I said. "Got nowhere with Vasquez last night."

"Ah." Delhoun led me into a large room next to his office, putting Pumpkin into a cat carrier, along with a tiny cup of applesauce. "Didn't talk to her?"

"I did, but all I did was make her cry."

"That's not supposed to happen, now, is it?"

"No, it's not." I glanced into the hall. "Do I have to play with Dakota's kids today?"

"Yep. Don't worry, I won't make you get her out, though. Already took care of that."

It took me a moment to realize Dakota's cage door was open, and I instantly felt my heart skip a few beats. "She's . . . out?"

Delhoun nodded. "Everything's secure. This is far better for her than tranquilizing her all the time. Hopefully, she'll get the hint. Besides, I told you yesterday that I think you're the one who can tame her."

"Oh, don't put that bullshit on me." I walked into the hall, approaching the open cage. Sure enough, the babies were in there, and they were excited to see me. "Hey, morons," I said, reaching in to take them.

Dopey scrambled up my arm, squeaking delightedly as he perched on my shoulder. I stuffed Nutjob in my shirt pocket, and held Alfalfa and Teddy in my hands. For some reason, I was happy with them, despite knowing them for only a day. Probably because I was so upset about what was going on with me and Vasquez. I had something to take my mind off it.

I walked into a hallway that led to the gym. The hall was dark, but I saw a shape sitting in the middle of the floor. My heart skipped another beat when I saw it was Dakota.

She was _pissed_ that I had her babies. Honestly, I couldn't blame her, but I just didn't want her attacking me. Her back was arched and she was snarling at me, claws extended.

I braced myself for her to jump on me, but nothing happened. I looked at her again, and saw she was just sitting there, tail flicking back and forth. She was looking up at her babies, and I guessed she figured now was not a good time to ravage my face.

* * *

That wouldn't be the last time I saw Dakota. Sometime shortly after ten in the morning, I had to go to the bathroom, and as I was washing my hands, I glanced in the mirror, and saw something emerge from the vent above the stall. Dakota was perched on top of the stall, staring at me.

I took a deep breath, and felt an anxious twinge in my gut. _Don't let her know you're afraid._ I saw her crawl closer to me, and my heart pounded faster. "Whatcha doing up there, girl?" I said.

She hissed at me.

I gave a nervous laugh. I didn't have the babies, therefore, I was ripe for attack.

Dakota stayed still, though, much like how she did in the hallway. The only movement was from her tail, and I had this feeling that she was waiting for me to look away from the mirror. I know I've heard that one of the best ways to not provoke an attack from a dog is by not making eye contact. With Annexers, I know that making eye contact is how they communicate, both with us and with their own kind. The more I made eye contact, the more I could (hopefully) send a message to Dakota to not attack me.

The question was, was _she_ making eye contact with me?

If I turned my thoughts to something else, I would appear less afraid. Unfortunately, my thoughts immediately turned to Vasquez and how I made her cry last night. Instead of looking afraid, I looked sad, and I didn't know how Dakota would react.

"I can kinda get how you feel," I said. "I have a hard time adjusting to new places and situations as well."

Dakota lifted her head a little.

"Lost my chance to live a normal life a long time ago." I shrugged. "You have a chance to live normally."

There was no way just talking to her was going to work, but at least she didn't appear enraged by it. Hell, maybe what she needed was someone to talk to her, gently.

"Give the people here a chance, OK? It'll make things a lot easier for you and for them." I don't know why I said that. She probably didn't understand. I turned around to face her, and said, "I'm going to leave the bathroom now. Are you going to leap on me and tear my eyes out?"

No response.

Sighing, I left the bathroom. I didn't hear her jump off the stall, and she didn't attack me. Why? I really don't know.


	5. Chapter 5

I returned to the gym to find the four baby Annexers playing with all the toys Delhoun had put in their pen, but Alfalfa needed to learn that his sister's tail isn't a toy. He bit it hard, and Teddy whirled around to swat him, hissing at him in the process. Sighing, I picked up Teddy and set her on my knee. "Look, I know he's annoying, but wait till you're older to really tear him apart. That'll probably make your mother proud."

Teddy stared up at me, eyes unblinking. She looked like she couldn't decide whether to move closer or back away, and she ended up deciding to back away. She made a whining sound as she went, telling me she still wasn't sure if I was a friend or not.

I think she was a little jealous of Nutjob, who, as you may've guessed, was curled up in my pocket. "Few months or so, and you won't fit in that pocket anymore," I said.

Delhoun said that one of the things I had to do today was start training the babies to obey basic commands, which would help make them adoptable when they were older. He gave me a sealable plastic bag full of freshly cut pieces of chicken as treats for when the babies did something right. I also noticed there were litter boxes set up on a covered area, and I instantly gave a heavy sigh, knowing I would be the one who had to clean up after them.

Dopey and Alfalfa both grabbed a squeaky toy and were trying to pull it away from each other. Finally, I took the toy from them and said, "Sit."

Neither of them sat; they tried getting the toy from me.

"I said, sit!"

Dopey opened his little mouth and started screeching at me.

I don't know how to train them. I don't even think they're old enough to be trained. Sighing, I gave up. My mind was in a million places. I had no motivation, and I couldn't focus. I ended up trying to get them to sit for another hour or so, but all attempts ended in failure.

If I didn't give myself a break, I was going to get frustrated and take it out on someone who didn't deserve it. I left the gym when I got hungry, and ventured off to Delhoun's kitchen.

I walked into the kitchen, absentmindedly rummaging around the cabinets for something that looked appetizing. That box of Saltines was pretty much the only thing prompting a growl from my stomach, so I pulled it from its hiding spot behind the giant plastic container full of graham crackers. After closing the cabinet, I was about to rip open the box when I heard someone walking around behind the row of cabinets in front of me.

I told myself it was just an employee, but that was until I heard the footsteps sounded a tad heavier than that of an average human. My ears pricked, and I tiptoed my way towards the corridor that led to the industrial part of the kitchen. I quickly lost my appetite when I realized this could become dangerous, and I was unarmed.

Somehow, though, my gut was also telling me that I was going to be fine, and I've learned (oftentimes the hard way) over the years to trust my gut more than anything.

I peered around a corner, seeing nothing. At this point, I knew I wasn't alone, because I could hear a very deep breath and an incomprehensible whisper. Despite that gut feeling that everything was going to be OK, I grabbed a butcher's knife laying on a counter, and kept moving forward.

As I came around the corner, I heard rapid footfalls, and, again, I saw nothing. A few items in the kitchen had been disturbed, and my confusion peaked when I saw a metal bowl on a counter was crushed.

No man-at least no man I know-can crush a damn metal bowl.

My stomach began knotting when I had the impression that I was being watched. I took a breath, telling myself that I was a Marine. I'm alert. I'm tough. I'm not afraid of whatever son-of-a-bitch that's watching me.

Feeling a little more bold, I dashed into the room, yelling. Stopping in the middle, I glanced around, seeing and hearing nothing.

This would've been better if I had my smartgun instead of a dinky kitchen knife.

"Who's there? Come on, show yourself!" I felt weak and powerless. In truth, I was afraid, but was whatever-this-was more afraid of me?

Apparently, it was. After roaming around the room for a few minutes, I found nothing. Not one trace that someone other me was there.

* * *

I honestly felt like a moron when I went back to the kitchen side room to grab the Saltines and go back to the gymnasium. I heard things. I saw a destroyed bowl. That was it. My brain must be playing tricks on me, or I'm suffering long-term side effects of those stupid silver flowers.

I felt even worse when I entered the gym and saw the babies had left presents for me all over the floor. Dopey and Alfalfa were still fighting over a squeaky toy. Teddy was curled up in the towel I used to hold them while giving them milk. Nutjob was sniffing a stuffed animal.

After cleaning up all the presents, I set near the back of the pen, opening the box of Saltines. I was mad at myself for so many reasons. First, I ruined my relationship with Vasquez. Now, I'm seeing and hearing things that aren't there. And I'm probably going to get a lecture from Apone about how I need to stop skipping breakfast and snacking on "useless calories" throughout the day. Not sure how he puts up with the rations, and we're on the verge of considering all our nutritional lessons a joke.

Alfalfa dropped the squeaky toy to run over to me. He hopped on my lap, chirping and extending his paws out toward the Saltine box.

"What? You want some?" I broke a small piece off a cracker and handed it to him. "Here. Enjoy."

Of course, if one has food, the others gotta have it, too. At least they were quiet when they all had their treat.

It must've been a half-hour later when Delhoun entered the gym, holding an empty plastic bin. "Everything alright, Drake?" he asked, setting the bin on the floor before stepping over the walls of the pen.

"Yeah," I lied.

Delhoun bent over to put the toys in the bin. "I know this is only your second day, but, how do you like it here so far?"

"If Dakota wasn't stalking me, it's great."

Delhoun sighed. "You realize my goal is to hire someone who can put up with her, correct?"

"I know."

"Please, Drake, I'm begging you," Delhoun pointed at me. "Don't let her get you down. There's not a lot left we can do to help her. That's why I want you on board."

"Delhoun, I'm not special," I said. "I can't make her tame."

"I never said you're special, son, I said that you have some things in common with her. I want you to at least _try_ to make a connection with Dakota. The last thing I want to do is put her down, but I can't bear to watch her suffer anymore. She needs to be there for her young, and she needs to know that she can trust humans."

"And I'm the wrong person to ask," I snapped. "I've got enough going on. I don't need this sitting on my shoulders. I don't want anything sitting on my shoulders." My heart was pounding so hard, I thought it would burst. "I've gone from a friend to a fucking servant!"

"I didn't say you were a servant!"

"Yeah, well, it sure feels like you did! I've already had my life stripped away because I was a stupid kid! I don't want what little I have left to be taken away by someone I thought I trusted!"

* * *

I don't know why I said that to him. I guess it was something I've been keeping bottled up and locked away in the darkest corner of my mind.

I returned to base with a bitter taste in my mouth. Just like yesterday, I didn't feel like talking to anyone. In a way, I felt like I was poisoned, and I was emitting it through my attitude and the way I spoke. I couldn't talk to anyone without spitting that poison.

My anger really showed at dinner, considering I didn't talk to anyone, I ignored everyone's questions, and I simply felt like screaming at everyone. Again, the feeling of failure was resurfacing, and it had me in a headlock. I wanted to hunch in on myself, curl up into a ball and lay on the floor, crying. Did I want to do that? No. I'm tired of feeling this way.

What I didn't realize was that everyone was taking notice, and shortly before I disappeared into my room for the night, I heard Hicks talking to Vasquez in the hallway.

". . . Someone needs to tell Drake that this moodiness has to stop," Hicks was saying. "We could get called to action any day now, and he's-"

"Fine. I will talk to him," Vasquez said hastily. "He probably just needs to vent, that's all."

"I hope that's all," Hicks sighed. "He's a good team member, and I'd hate to lose him."

Vasquez was quiet for a moment. She then gave a sigh of her own, and said, "Maybe we need to work on communication with each other. Not just . . . with Drake, but with each other. I think he was trying to tell us something before, and no one was listening."

"You want me to pass that idea over to Apone?"

"Could you? While I talk to Drake?"

"Sure." Hicks began walking away. "Good luck."

As she turned into the corridor, Vasquez bumped right into me. She opened her mouth to yell, but instead chose to slap me.

I struggled to force myself to grin. "That was a really good lie you told back there."

"What lie?"

"That I've been trying to tell people something and no one's listening. Nice way to cover up our problems, sweetheart."

" _That_ impresses you, huh? Well, you're welcome." Vasquez gripped my arms. "Knock it off, Drake."

"Knock off what?"

"Being a big baby about everything."

"I'm not being a baby. You're the one who was under the impression I had a moment of epiphany when I almost died."

Vasquez grabbed my face. "I don't want to fight with you anymore. I'm tired of it, and I'm tired of everyone looking at you like something's wrong."

"Something is wrong, though-"

"Not anymore!" Vasquez's breath was shaking, and she sounded like she was trying to hold back all of her emotions as well. "I don't want to think about what my life would be like if you died or disappeared!" She roughly shook my head. "I've been around you longer than I've been on my own. I can't remember a day that's gone by when you weren't there, aside from when you were stuck on that Godforsaken hospital station." Tears were streaming down her face. "You were right; it's more important that you're alive."

"Hey, you weren't exactly wrong in what you said a few nights ago. Even though I had that experience, I still want a change in scenery, and . . . I want you to experience a change as well. I know you're perfectly comfortable here, and I can't take you from that."

"You're not happy, though."

"I know. That's why I've been with Delhoun for the last few days. He thinks this job would be a good opportunity for me."

"But it means leaving the Corps-"

"I'm aware, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I even said 'yes' to trying this job out. I don't even enjoy it all that much."

"What is it that you're doing?"

"Taking care of baby Annexers."

Vasquez frowned. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

"This is because of LV-400, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and Delhoun has a pet Annexer of his own. He studies them, and he thought I got along so well with his pet that working with lots of them would be a good idea."

Vasquez looked torn between smiling and crying. She glanced around for a moment, probably making sure we were completely alone, then hugged me. Without hesitation, I hugged her back, tightly.

"Hey," I whispered.

"What?" she whispered back.

"I love you. I don't think you hear that from me often, so I figured I'd say it now."

"Don't you dare start getting mushy, Drake."

"Tough guys can say 'I love you.'"

Sighing, Vasquez hung on to me for some time. I think she'd been waiting to do this ever since I came back, and I was happy that we managed to resolve our issues. A weight had definitely been lifted from my shoulders, but some part of me was worried that we didn't talk enough. Nothing was going to change the fact that I dismissed her concerns when we were in bed together a few nights ago, even though I basically apologized and we were standing in a hallway hugging each other.

I also knew that dealing with Vasquez was a hell of a lot easier than dealing with Dakota, and I knew that I now had to deal with my outburst to Delhoun, not to mention the noises and disturbances I heard in the kitchen earlier that day were still on the back of my mind.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I know I add new chapters rather quickly compared to other online writers, but this felt like it took forever. The scene with Drake hearing the sounds in the kitchen went through a major revision, because I felt like I was introducing the source way too quickly. I don't wish to spoil anything more about it at the moment.  
_

 _Finally! Drake and Vasquez talk it out. The conversation they share might go through some editing, but that all depends on what the readers think about it. Did it feel fast? Forced? Realistic? The conversation was definitely more "dialogue-heavy," and probably could have had more in terms of physical description and descriptions of feelings and emotions and Drake's overall thought process. This is his "diary," after all. Their conflict isn't over, though, due to Vasquez thinking Drake might choose the Annexers over the Colonial Marines. Truth be told, Drake would live longer if he chose pet care. Unless he fails to tame Dakota.  
_

 _I don't know exactly when the next chapter will be up. It probably won't be up until the weekend, unless I decide to spend longer hours writing, or I manage to get time while traveling. I'll be stuck in a car for Alien Day!  
_

 _Again, I really appreciate all the feedback I've been getting on this story and the other stories I've been working on. I'm glad you enjoy this being told from Drake's perspective, and I look forward to continuing._


	6. Chapter 6

I went back to Delhoun's facility in the morning knowing that Delhoun might ask about what I said yesterday, but I instead found him sitting in his office with Pumpkin on his lap. He glanced at me for a second, but then looked back at Pumpkin. His shoulders were slumped and he gave a heavy sigh that told me he wasn't happy.

Poor Delhoun. Maybe I was too hard on him yesterday.

With no instructions, I figured I could look around, because I am not going into Dakota's cage without Delhoun to get the babies. As I walked by all the cages, I heard Dakota hissing at me, and the cheerful squeaks of the babies as they pressed themselves against the bars, clearly happy to see me.

At least someone was happy to see me.

I walked into the hallway that led to the gym, picking up a squeaky ball and tossing it to myself. _Best thing to do is to apologize to Delhoun,_ I thought. _He's given you a lot. He's saved your life. Don't forget that._ I turned to go back to Delhoun's office, but stopped to kick the ball to the end of the hallway.

I would've continued on my merry way if I didn't hear a grunt when the ball struck something. Slowly, I looked over my shoulder, feeling every nerve in my body tingle like their ends had been dipped in ice-cold water.

The ball rolled back over, touching the toe of my right boot. I paled when I saw the glint of eyes peering out of a room at the end of the hallway.

I straightened my back, trying not to look afraid. Come on. It's probably some dumbass looking to get his hands on an Annexer. Maybe even looking to get Dakota back to the fighting rings. No matter. I'm tougher than them. I balled my fists, and stalked down to the end of the hallway.

I stopped in front of the door, and found I was looking directly into the pitch-black eyes of a giant. He appeared to be a little over eight feet tall, and his face was completely white-not just pale. White like snow. I looked him up and down, noting his unusual armor and near-perfect physique. My heart was in my throat, afraid of what he could do to me, considering his size.

We stared at each other for the longest time. I felt like an idiot, but I was also shaking in my boots. What in the hell was this . . . this guy? He looked human aside from his size and paleness, and the freaky black eyes.

Gulping, I said, "You're not gonna hurt me, are you?"

Now, he was studying _me_. He looked over me, poking me, feeling my hair, and gently squeezing the muscles on my arms.

I sighed. "Come on, what are you doing? Stop it."

The big guy took his hand away, noting my annoyance. He shrugged, and looked as though he wanted to move away from me.

I then put two and two together. Judging by his size, it was plausible he was the one who crushed a bowl on a counter. "Were you sneaking around in the kitchen yesterday?"

He nodded.

I folded my arms over my chest, impressed he seemed to understand me. "You understand everything I'm saying?"

Another nod.

"Do you speak English yourself?"

He shook his head.

"OK, well, you realize you're trespassing on someone's property, right?"

A nod, coupled with a goofy grin.

"Oh, little joker here, are we?" I nodded along with him, finding myself grinning as well. "Yeah, that's naughty, buddy." I gave a sigh, relieved I wasn't going to be torn apart. My mind was still in a million places, and I glanced up at my little friend. "I don't appreciate you scaring the crap out of me yesterday, if that was you."

Another nod, and then he ruffled my hair.

"If this is a 'sorry,' then you're forgiven," I said. "See? I can just forgive someone, and it's all good. No prolonged fights. No ignoring each other."

Our big humanoid friend gave me a confused look.

"Yeah, you're not gonna get it. Just . . . having problems with a . . . a personal friend. Well, two personal friends." I sighed again, looking down at my boots. "I'm sorry I'm gonna sound like I'm dumping my emotions on you. I got into an argument with the one person I found I could trust with all that. It was my fault, really. I . . . I suck at communicating with people."

I guess if I didn't feel like crap, I wouldn't be spilling my guts to the first sentient being I saw. I had nothing to do in terms of the Annexers here, and I'm still unsure about how my talk with Vasquez last night went. My mind was beginning to hurt with all this, and I wished I could make all the parts of my personality that made me a jackass stop. I wished there was a switch in my brain I could turn off, a switch that would make me a better person, an emotionless person, a nobody. I wish I could clean my record, make me someone who had even less value than he already does.

A moment later, I realized I had said all this out loud to the giant snowman. He looked like he'd been listening, and he looked pretty concerned. He was frowning, and then he patted my head, like he was trying to tell me everything was OK. I didn't say anything more, knowing he didn't witness anything and had only my word to go off of. He seemed like he wanted to help me, but didn't know how. My guess was that he thought I was really depressed and wanted to end my life. Now that I think about it, it did sound like I wanted to end my life. I don't want that. I just want my life to change. I want to be someone instead of no one, but the truth is that because of the fact that I screwed up and spent a good chunk of my life in prison, I'm never going to be a normal person. I'm partway between "no one" and "someone," and I'm leaning toward "no one."

I guess what I _really_ meant to say was that I wanted to run away. Maybe not run away, but get myself discharged. Put myself in a position where I could choose between leaving the Corps and doing something on my own. The fact that I'm stuck between the Corps and Delhoun isn't enough, because both have me doing something where I don't have that much freedom. I've served my time, and I'd like to go, but is that possible? Is my record going to leave me alone, or do I have to create a false identity in order to survive and do what I'd like? I don't want to do that. I'd like to keep my name, my face, and, yeah, even my shitty personality.

It would be easy for me to make a decision if I didn't have Vasquez. I don't want to just ditch her. I can't. I care about her. I don't want to leave her wondering where I am and what I'm doing, whether or not I'm happy, whether or not I still care. That'd be hard for the both of us.

Looking up at the big guy, I said, "Don't worry about me, OK? I'm just venting. None of it means anything."

He shrugged, and then touched my shoulder.

"Do you know what I mean by venting?"

He nodded, and then ruffled my hair again.

"I'm going to be alright," I said, smiling weakly. Honestly, I wasn't sure why he developed sympathy for me. Maybe there was a lot more to his human likeness than meets the eye.

* * *

A normal person would have told Delhoun that there was a giant snow-white man hiding in his facility, but I made the decision that he was safe and there was no need to drive Delhoun nuts. Not to mention I still needed to apologize to him. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was telling lies, considering I basically accused him of telling lies last night.

I left the Annexer care facility rather early, satisfied that I knew what was lurking around the corridors. Why this big man was there was another question, one I could save for another day. For now, I had an even bigger curiosity about what was out here in Brisbane.

It was relieving to be outside by myself. No Delhoun. No Annexers. No Vasquez. I felt like some weight had been lifted from my shoulders as I had complete freedom to explore. I ate a good dinner, sitting at an outdoor table and watching the sky go from blue to deep-red in about twenty minutes.

With a full stomach, I went deeper into the city, no clue of where specifically I was going. That was a good and bad feeling, I supposed. Again, it was like a very soft whisper telling me there were things about myself I needed to find. Whether or not I would find it was another question. Geez, I have a lot of questions I just want to save for another day.

There was a lot I could do, but I spent most of my time sitting in the sand, watching the Pacific Ocean lap at the shore. I glanced over my shoulder, and upon seeing no one, a heaviness came over my heart. The familiar feeling of loneliness. I looked back at the water, sighing. I found myself choking a little, and I drew up my legs to hunch in on myself, hoping no one saw me in the beginning stages of crying.

I kept thinking back to my sudden venting to the strange giant in the facility, and my outburst to Delhoun. It wasn't fair to them to have to experience my anger. They had done nothing to me. I was the one who didn't know how to properly communicate.

Then again . . . this was how all this shit started. If I didn't get angry at Bishop, I wouldn't have been punished. I would never have met Delhoun, and I wouldn't be working with Annexers.

Some people say everything happens for a reason. If that's true, I wonder what the reason is that I'm here, going through a mountain of crap. In a way, I hope that's true, because I want to feel like I have a purpose in life.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I'm back! My trip to D.C. was awesome and I hope to go back soon.  
_

 _I did manage to work on this a little when I had time alone in the hotel room. I feel like this chapter could have been better, or longer, but I wasn't sure how to go about it. Honestly, this might be the worst chapter I've ever written, and I wrapped it up as best I could because I feel like the story needs to progress, and I'll go back and edit when I find the right way to flesh it out and make it better.  
_

 _I know that the introduction of the Engineers as the Space Jockeys created a rift within the Alien fandom. Frankly, I'm in the area that says, "This is interesting and it can be worked with." Drake sure as hell doesn't know what they are, what they do, etc., and he probably isn't going to care, especially while having an existential crisis. I've come to the realization that while this story is primarily about the relationship he has with Vasquez, it also reveals some metaphorical "open wounds" that were technically present throughout this series: difficulty with accepting the past, dealing with the consequences of his actions, and understanding that not everyone he's interacting with has gone through what he's gone through, which is why others are alienated by his outbursts.  
_

 _Given this is purely Drake's perspective, the goofball-ish Engineer probably won't be identified by name for another chapter or so. "Giant snowman" is my favorite term as of now. I got the idea to create an Engineer character after reading some really well-done fanfiction and responding to an Alien Day question on Twitter. The question was "What do you want to see in the next Alien movie?" and I responded with something along the lines of an antihero-type Engineer character (i.e., an Engineer that separated himself from the rest of his kind, loathes David and the Xenomorphs, and is willing to work with our human protagonists). I thought that there's no way this idea could actually be played out in film (or comics), so I'd write it myself. What I'm getting is less of an antihero and more of a quiet, goofy, friendly loner that pities Drake and wants to help him.  
_

 _Anyway, I'm sorry for the long message. Happy reading, and happy belated Alien Day._


	7. Chapter 7

My dreams were vivid that night. I was walking down a dark corridor, lit only by primitive torches. It was very warm and stuffy, but I wasn't sweating. I heard screeching, reminisce of an Annexer. Rounding a corner, I saw Dakota, sitting in the middle of the hall, looking at me. Her claws were out, and she started growling at me. Without another thought, she lunged at me, jumping to scratch my face. Blood sprayed on the floor and the walls, but I was relieved to find that she didn't gouge out my eyes.

I felt powerless. A heavy feeling started in my chest and stomach. I did nothing, and simply looked at her.

Dakota screamed at me, getting on her hind legs. " _Stay away from them! Stay away from them, and stay away from me!"_

I sighed, feeling defeated. "Fine. I'll stay away. Who do you want me to stay away from, aside from you?"

She dug her claws into my abdomen, raking them diagonally from the base of my ribs to where my appendix is. " _My children, you freak!"_

Blood soaked my shirt, and I felt a thick, wet layer coating my stomach. I didn't respond to her. I couldn't.

Dakota put her bloody paws on the eyepieces of her gas mask. She was crying. She hunched over, trying to cover her face.

I stayed where I was. The blood on my face was running down my neck and my chest. The blood on my stomach was beginning to run into my pants. What could I say to her? Why did this feel so real? At the same time, why wasn't I in pain from the scratches? Why was I feeling emotional pain, but not physical pain?

* * *

It must've been around four in the morning when I woke up feeling like someone lit a fire under the bed, and suddenly, I could not get comfortable. I thought the base's AC wasn't working due to a power outage or something, but my clock was still working. Not a lot of time had passed when I began shivering. I huddled under the blankets, and let out a groan when I came to the conclusion that I had a fever.

No big deal, right? I'm hanging around animals. I'm bound to get some sort of infection, but God only knows what horrific diseases Annexers carry. Somehow, though, I had a gut feeling this wasn't due to the Annexers, only because I knew that Delhoun prides himself on cleanliness.

I couldn't get back to sleep, and I hoped that my fever would break in a few hours. Lo and behold, it didn't. By seven, I was incredibly uncomfortable, irritable, and I had a bad headache.

Sitting up, I took a deep breath, feeling like my organs were out of place and just sitting on top of one another, like the muscles holding them in place disappeared. Appetite? Nope. Despite not eating lunch or dinner yesterday, I wasn't hungry. I rubbed my face, which was hot to the touch. Honestly, I wasn't sure what emotion to feel, but I knew it was anything but happiness.

I struggled to comprehend what was going on around me. My head was heavy and throbbing. I looked into a mirror to find my pupils had shrunk to the size of pinheads, but, then again, my vision wasn't in clear focus.

Maybe I'd feel better if I got some water in me.

I stumbled out of my room, grabbing at the wall as I went. I felt somewhat better after getting a glass of water from the mess hall, but that feeling of relief didn't last very long. I collapsed in front of the water cooler, as though a massive weight was tied to my head. I was burning up, and I was certain that I experienced the physical embodiment of defeat.

Pain continued to grip my head, and I let out a less-than-impressive whimper. Following that whimper was a childish cry. Following that cry was a grunt, and then another cry. I grit my teeth, and I sobbed. What was happening? Why was I feeling this? How bad could a fever get?

* * *

The next thing I knew, I was strapped down to a hospital bed, the back of my head resting in a metal bowl of cold water and ice cubes. The wetness was the first thing I felt upon waking, but I didn't have the strength to jolt up, nor was that physically possible.

My vision cleared, and I saw a man in a surgical mask standing over me. For a moment, I thought it was Delhoun, but I looked closer to see he had green eyes instead of red. He pulled down his mask, and said, "Good to see you're up, Drake. Gave us a bit of a fright a few hours ago."

I groaned. "Don't tell me I almost died again."

"Not quite. Death's door was closed and locked to you, I suppose. Your fever was, and still is pretty high. Bishop found you barely conscious by the water cooler, and brought you here immediately. How are you feeling right now?"

"I'm very uncomfortable. My head is stuck in cold water and it's still throbbing in pain. I don't know how else to describe it."

The doctor nodded. "You will be uncomfortable for some time, I'm afraid. My examination of you confirmed you're still in the recovery process regarding silver flowers."

" _What?!_ "

Another nod. "Have you been in cryosleep at all since you left the orbital hospital?"

"Yeah."

"There's your issue. Inducing cryosleep and recovering from the toxin of silver flowers don't mix. Instead of letting the toxin leave the body, it sits and transitions to a liquid. When you come out of cryosleep, you start developing a condition known as toxic discharge. During toxic discharge, your body is trying to expel the liquefied fumes by turning it back into a gas, thus, your temperature is raised."

I sighed. "This is honestly the most incredible bullshit I've ever heard."

"It's not, though. Your case on the hospital station has pushed for more research on this plant."

"That's all fine and dandy for you, but what about me? I don't want this crap sitting in me anymore."

"Don't panic. I've been working on something that should do the trick for you." He reached over to a small cart next to him, taking out a comically large syringe. If it wasn't impossible for me to move, I would've been squirming like a trapped animal. This felt like the stuff of nightmares-at least, that was what I thought when I regained the totality of my senses.

I grunted in pain as the needle was slowly and carefully driven into my left arm. A cooling sensation was instantly felt throughout my body, but, much like my drink of water from earlier, it didn't last long. The only difference was that I felt as if I was floating. Gradually, my senses began blurring until I fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

All I know is that a long time passed between receiving the giant shot and waking up. Waking up became a bitch, as I struggled to open my eyes and regain feeling in my extremities. When I did fully wake, I felt someone holding my hand, and turned my head to see Vasquez, sitting next to the bed with my left hand gripped tightly in hers.

I couldn't seem to find the strength to smile.

The silence was a little awkward, depending on how you looked at it. After a few minutes, it was broken by Vasquez sighing and squeezing my hand tighter. It was a sigh of relief.

I forced myself to return the gesture, and wrapped my fingers around her hand. Only then did I manage to grin at her. "Hi."

"Hi," she replied. "Are you-"

"OK? Not in the slightest." I wanted to laugh, but I was in pain just from thinking about it. "I have no idea what happened."

"You were screaming deliriously at a water cooler and Bishop had to drag you to sick bay."

"I know that, but, I'm talking about the doctor with the giant syringe."

"Oh, Doctor Hornby? Apparently, he's only one of a handful of people who know about these stupid silver flowers. He gave you something that's supposed to help you force out whatever poison decided to stay in your system." Vasquez shrugged. "That's all I know. Frankly, I don't care. I . . . I . . ."

"Almost lost me again? I know. Doctor said I wasn't even close, but I think he said that just to make me feel better. How long has it been since he gave me the shot?"

"Six hours. Maybe longer."

"And how long were you sitting here?"

"Ten minutes. I made sure everyone was in the mess hall beforehand."

I gave her a lopsided grin. "Were you scared?"

"Dear God, yes! How can you act like-"

"Honey, _relax_. I'm gonna be OK. Don't get worked up over it. Do you think a stupid plant is gonna keep me down? I'm pretty sure we've been through worse shit than this."

I could tell Vasquez wanted to argue with me, but she let out her breath, deciding against it. "You're a dumbass, Drake." She probably would've slapped me if I wasn't incapacitated on a hospital bed. "But, you're my favorite dumbass."

"Hey, slap me if you want. Maybe it'll make my senses come back faster."

"Well, maybe it won't and maybe I'll get in trouble for hurting a sick man."

"Hopefully, this'll be the last time I have to be laid up in a damn hospital for a long time," I said, "I'm getting sick of this."

"Yeah. Literally."

"Do you know how long it'll be before they let me out?"

"I heard you'll be let out tonight."

* * *

"You'll be let out tonight" came with a massive price tag. First, I still had a ninety-nine-degree fever that wasn't going to break until the last of the antidote was flushed from my system. Much like the stuff I was given on the station over a month ago, it worked through my kidneys and sweating, but it was a bit more intense. I got up maybe three or four times during the night to use the facilities, and my sheets were almost soaked with my own sweat.

Worse yet, this Doctor Hornby guy gave Apone strict orders that I wasn't to be put in cryosleep for a month. That meant, if my squad got called for a mission within that amount of time, I had to stay behind.

Deep down, I knew this was all my fault. If I didn't run like a maniac into the lab with the flowers, I wouldn't have fallen ill in the first place. No, if I hadn't gotten pissed at Bishop, I wouldn't have even been on that station in the first place.

Although, if I had been a bit smarter several years ago, none of this crap would've ever happened.

The only person who knows what I did to get myself landed in juvenile prison is Vasquez, and she swore she'd never tell anyone. Honestly, I've been afraid to tell my tale in a journal because I'm worried someone'll see it, but I think I need to get it off my chest.

I stole a car. I stole a car because I needed to escape. It didn't help that I shot someone to get it. I had to, or else I would've been shot first.

The place I grew up in wasn't necessarily the best, nor was it the worst. A group of kids in my graduating class decided it would be funny to make a "gang pledge." They weren't all that bright, and none of them could get hired for part-time jobs, so they thought they could make a living by robbing people and trading hard drugs for cash or illegal weapons. They decided, one day, that I would be a perfect victim.

I can remember a bright blue car being parked across the street from where I was walking. Four guys got out and approached me, looking friendly at first, but then grabbed me and dragged me over to the hood of the car. What they didn't know was that I was armed myself-bought a .22 handgun not too long after my sixteenth birthday. I managed to squirm out of their grips and yanked the gun out of my belt. I probably would've been in less trouble if I had shot the one kid in the leg instead of the head, but what the hell are you supposed to do when you're running on pure adrenaline?

The car was wide open, so I threw myself into the driver's seat, slammed shut the doors, and pressed my foot on the gas as hard as I could. I remember the car smelled like a mix of cigarette smoke and strong perfume. I also remember the pained screams, the sickening crunches, and the _bam_ of the car smacking into two of the guys who attacked me. I thought this was going to be the perfect chance to run away and start my own life.

Well, I was wrong. I was very wrong. I lasted maybe three days before getting picked up in the woods. The car was out of gas, and I was starving. The evidence that I had seriously hurt people was all over the front of the car. I guess you know what happens from there.

Now that I've written this, I don't know if I feel any better. Maybe it'll take some time for a weight like that to come off my shoulders. Maybe it did nothing at all, and I'm just wasting ink, paper, and time.

Someone's knocking at my window.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Many writers' advice books say that you should just write, then edit. Never edit while writing. I'm one of those people who edits while they write, and I'll never understand why they say not to edit while writing. I think it shows a good eye for mistakes and good intuition about whether or not you feel you're doing a good job. Why wait when you really, really, really feel like your writing isn't going the way you feel it should be going?  
_

 _I'm a bit worried about including the remembrance scene of Drake's past and the reason he was in prison. I hope it doesn't feel lackluster or falls flat to the reader, but I felt that he doesn't need a massively tragic backstory. While this is certainly tragic, it feels more like a stroke of very bad luck, which makes the character feel more human.  
_

 _I felt the fever sequence was necessary to force Drake and Vasquez into a place where Vasquez really gets to confront her fear of losing Drake. If I didn't include this, I think their spat could've dragged out longer, and I think I need to move on to Drake attempting to tame Dakota and the reason the Engineer is there. Not to mention, I introduced the character of Doctor Hornby. The only thing I can say of him is that he's a workplace rival of Delhoun's._


	8. Chapter 8

I was surprised to find our giant snowman friend standing outside my window. For one thing, I wondered how the hell he got into the fence and past security, given his size and all, and I wondered why he was here.

Sighing, I opened the window. "Don't you have something better to do?"

He shook his head, and gave me a piece of paper. His handwriting wasn't the best, but I was able to make out: " _I heard of your illness, so I came to see you. I need your help. I thought you would be the best choice because I was watching you play with Dakota's children."_

I almost laughed. "Look, buddy, I went over this with Delhoun; I'm nothing special, OK? I can't help anyone. I don't know why people think I can be helpful or that I have some kind of deep meaning. I mean nothing to everyone. I'm not a hero. I'm not the kind of person you want helping you with anything." I shrugged. "You get that?"

He shook his head.

I know deep down he meant no harm. I mean, yeah, he's something that we've probably never heard of, but, still, he had enough human likeness that I could kinda tell he wasn't trying to lead me into a trap or lie to me or something like that. Honestly, I can't remember the last time someone had any shred of faith in me.

After getting no response from me, he pushed the window screen up higher, and gestured for me to come out.

"Are you hearing anything I just said to you?" My voice was beginning to raise. "Are you stupid or something?"

He gave a heavy sigh, and reached in to grab me by my ribs.

"You must be stupid," I grunted, trying to fight against him, to no avail. "You let go of me or I'll make you regret being born."

This would be different if he was the size of a normal man. I could've easily flipped him over if he wasn't over eight feet tall and was in far better shape than me. He managed to drag me through the window, dropping me on the dirt. I scrambled up, and was about to throw myself through the window when he slammed it shut.

"What're you doing, huh?" I gasped, turning to face the giant. "Don't you even dare think about touching me, or-"

He raised his hand like he was about to slap me. I was pretty sure a slap from him would take my head off. I flinched, and he paused, giving me a stern look, as if to say, "Stop being a baby."

I figured it was best not to fight here. I was at a severe disadvantage, and I was weak from the fever and the medication. "Alright," I sighed, "what's your big plan here? Why am I such a key part of it? Why couldn't you pick on somebody else?"

Ignoring me, he started walking toward the large patch of tall grass that grew near the northern side of the fence. I crouch-walked while he crawled on his hands and knees. It felt weird to be crouch-walking without my smartgun lying across my knees, but without all my gear, it felt more like my physical before joining the Marines. I had to do a variety of walks to make sure my legs and my spine were in working order, and take note of the fact that I was wearing nothing but a flimsy robe while several doctors and recruits watched.

I wish I could erase some of my memories.

It was a little chilly out, and I wasn't sure what time it was. All I knew was that it was some ungodly hour, and that I was only wearing cargo shorts, workboots, and my dogtags. As we came to the fence, I paused, feeling my ears prick when I heard a creak. I looked to my right to see the light tower, and the silhouette of a man turning a large lamp around the complex.

I could almost feel the big beam of light approaching me. Ice seemed to be going up my spine, and I inched closer to the fence, holding my breath.

The tall grass ended just outside the fence, leaving us wide open to be caught. The giant snowman tapped my shoulder, and started crawling over to a tree growing on the other side of the fence.

I gave a soft sigh. "You can't climb that. You'll break it."

Instead of listening to me, he hauled himself onto the tree trunk after climbing over the fence, concealed by the branches and grass. After wrapping his legs around the tree trunk, he gestured for me to follow. I glanced over my shoulder, then climbed over the fence, proceeding to go up the tree. "You got a point to doing this?" I asked.

I got no answer. The giant began climbing down, disappearing into the tall grass below. I followed suit, frustrated with the lack of answers I was getting. He could at least write me a note or something.

By the time we left the tall grass, we were far out of range for any of the base's guards to catch us. I could see how the big guy got inside the first place, and that was a little scary. "I guess Weyland-Yutani needs to get its priorities straight. Again."

The big guy whirled around to face me. He pointed at me, and he seemed to be growling, up until he grabbed a stick and wrote in the dirt: " _Don't you ever mention that name in front of me or any of my people. Not only did an android, whose name I will never say, try to exterminate us Engineers, but it's only deepened the feuds we've been nursing against each other for centuries. Those who create, and those who destroy. Those who want to explore, and those who want to remain home and provide for society."_ He took notice of my confused look, and wrote, _"It's a bit complicated for you. Don't feel bad. You vented to me. I guess it was my turn to vent to you."_

Now, I smiled. "Venting's OK, man. We all need to do it sometimes." I patted his shoulder, looking back down at what he had written. "Engineers, huh? Is that what you're called?"

" _I've heard some humans refer to us as 'space jockeys,' as well._ "

"Space jockeys. I kinda like that." I glanced at him, a little surprised that all it took was venting for him to open up. It made me feel less alone in my emotions, though I doubted his were as turbulent as mine. "You got a name?"

" _It's Aran. Yours?"_

"Drake."

He paused for a moment, then shook my hand before writing, " _Pleasure to meet you. Do you trust me? More importantly, can I trust you?_ "

"Sure you can," I said. "I got nothing better to do."

" _I've noticed you have some issues regarding your self-worth. Don't take it the wrong way. It's just very apparent."_

I could've told him to mind his business, but he had a point. "I know. Just . . . low self-esteem, that's all."

" _That's not healthy._ "

"I know. Nothing I can do about it, though. I've been this way for a while." I sighed. "I don't know what to do, to be honest. I wish I could feel less crappy. I wish I could be a little more outgoing and I wish . . . people would listen to me, and vice versa. I don't know why that's so hard."

" _Do you have a hard time trusting people?_ "

I nodded.

" _That makes everything harder. It doesn't make you a bad person, but it does make things harder."_

We were sitting in the dirt for some time, and I was starting to feel tired and hungry. I wanted to go back to bed, but it was pretty obvious Aran had brought me out here for a reason. He seemed to be letting me think for a little, until writing in the dirt again. " _I still would like your help with something, though. The reason I've been in that Annexer center is because I lost a friend. You know her as Dakota._ "

I glanced at him. "Dakota?"

He nodded. " _I found her when she was a baby, when traveling. She bonded with me, but I had to leave not too long after. It's taken me fifteen years, but I've finally found her, and she's changed."_ He paused. _"Why has she become so aggressive?_ "

"She got kidnapped and made to fight in illegal rings. That's the short answer."

" _How did she become a mother, then?_ "

"She got loose in the Annexer center and decided to fuck one of the other residents."

" _I see. I want to help her. I don't know the details of what happened. That's why I'd like your help as well. I saw you with her young. Surely, you've formed some kind of connection._ "

I pointed to my left eye. "She scratched me. That's the only connection I have with her. Her babies are another story, though. Delhoun says that if Dakota doesn't get tamed, she might have to be put down."

Aran sighed. " _Let me take a chance. I haven't been face-to-face with her, but maybe seeing me will trigger a memory of some sort._ "

"Yeah, good luck with that, pal. It ain't happening. She'll claw your eyes out before you can even touch the lock on her cage."

Aran didn't think I was being funny. In fact, he looked really sad. I don't know if he was upset because I was being a bit of an ass, or that I was speaking the truth. Either way, I kinda felt bad.

"Sorry," I said. "Just being brutally honest with you."

Wiping his writing from the dirt, Aran stood up, then gestured for me to follow. He led me across the grassy field before coming to the shore. Now, I mentioned before that our base is off the coast of Australia, so I'm wondering what Aran had in mind as to how we were getting to the mainland.

I gave him a look of disbelief when he dragged a large metal rowboat out from a tangle of bushes. "Are you kidding?" I asked. "It'll take _days_ for us to get to Brisbane in this dinky little thing!"

Sighing, Aran pushed the boat halfway into the water, then walked back over to grab me. It was pretty clear he wasn't taking any bullshit from me, and I couldn't blame him.

I was placed in the boat like a ragdoll, then Aran pushed the boat further into the water before climbing in. He had nothing to write on, so we were going to have dead silence for the majority of the trip.

* * *

Sleeping on the boat was uncomfortable. I awoke with my neck, shoulders, and back sore, but I also awoke to find my arms and torso covered in in a thin, silvery liquid. I could only hope that this was the last leg of the "toxic discharge" that doctor was talking about. I was cold, and wished I was back in bed. Part of me was on the verge of just disappearing into my head and staying there for awhile, but another part of me was saying not to; doing that would lead me to becoming depressed over something so trivial. After all, I've been trained to deal with shit.

It's different when you experience it with other people. You're sharing the experience. Your pain is no difference than that of your comrades. You suffer and they suffer. You turn your emotions off, and never delve too deep in your thoughts, because your mission is more important.

Working alone is a whole other animal, and this is twice now that I've had to deal with stuff on my own. Delhoun told me it's the best way for me to grow, mentally. I guess he saw that I was lacking in that. He was, of course, the guy in charge of making sure I didn't step out of line as a prisoner, but that didn't mean he had to be cruel.

The issue with experiencing something by yourself when you've worked in a group for so long is that you uncover parts of who you are that you've either suppressed or didn't know you had. It's tempting to want to explore more, but you damn well know you can't when your adventure's over. There are many barriers in my head that I should've put back up, but, instead, they were left down. My emotions, my memories, and general feelings of being human have bled into my professional life since the LV-400 mission. Do I blame Little Shit and the other Annexers? No. They didn't know. _I_ was the one who lowered my defenses. If there weren't other factors involved (namely, the damn Xenomorph and my frustration at Bishop over the explorers), then I probably would've kept my mental barriers up. I wouldn't have been quick to accept the Annexers as friends. I would've seen them as just another extraterrestrial ally we made.

But, I can't go back and change that. I think I regret more than half of my past, and I don't think that's normal for anyone.

I was hunched in on myself, trying to keep warm. The silver sweat was making that difficult. Out of curiosity, I leaned over the side of the boat, putting my left arm in the water. The water was warm, and I watched the silver fluid trail away as it left my skin. I did the same with my right arm, feeling a little more comfortable up until I pulled them both out of the water. I was cold again almost as soon as the air hit me.

Behind me, I heard movement, and turned to see Aran opening a large first-aid kit. He pulled out a brown blanket, and tossed it to me. Quickly, I threw the blanket over my shoulders, wrapping myself up like a scared child.

There was a simple question I wanted to ask Aran: did he consider me a tool in his quest to get Dakota? He seemed like he was being genuinely friendly, but there was a part of me that was unsure, and felt right to be so. I couldn't write him off as playing with me just yet. I had to wait and see.

I managed to fall asleep again, and awoke to the smell of something cooking. I looked around as my vision came back into focus, and saw I was in a small room, dimly lit by sunlight spilling in through bars. This was not the dinky rowboat.

I was about to panic when someone tapped my shoulder, and I whirled around to see Aran holding a large pad of sticky notes. He handed one to me. " _I stowed away on this cruise ship when I first went to the base island, then I stole a lifeboat. This is the same ship I was on just a day ago. It almost ran us over last night. You were in a deep sleep, and I managed to carry you on board. Are you OK?_ "

I rubbed my face. "I'm in disbelief over this, to be honest with you. Do you even know if this thing is headed for Brisbane?"

" _It was leaving Brisbane. Pretty sure it's going back._ "

"Alright, then, I'm taking your word for it." I took a deep breath. "Are they making breakfast or something?"

Aran nodded, then wrote in his notepad. " _I wouldn't advise going out. You're poorly dressed and you'll get in trouble for being a stowaway._ "

"Well, then, how'd a behemoth like yourself hide out on here, smartass?"

" _I found an unused area and waited for the right time to leave. This is all about patience._ "

I should take his advice to heart, but as I became more awake, I realized that I had more to deal with than just an empty stomach. I already assumed that the silver sweat was related to whatever my body was doing to get rid of the silver flower fumes, and I guess it did more than just them. I felt dehydrated and weak, and as much as I wanted to say something to Aran, I didn't think he'd understand.

Then again, it doesn't hurt to try. Sometimes.

"Hey, Aran?" I said, looking at him from my spot in a corner, "I need water, or an electrolyte drink or something."

Aran studied me for a minute, probably trying to see if I was simply whining because I was hungry, but I guess he saw I was really uncomfortable, and caved in. He nodded, and then opened a door leading to a dark corridor. When he disappeared, a small feeling of dread jerked in my gut. _What if he's caught? What if I'm caught? What if I'm never found and I end up starving to death or dying of thirst?_ I sighed. _Don't be such a paranoid wuss, Drake._

I was alone for quite some time. I imagined that I looked like a prisoner in a cell . . . well, that's all too easy for me to imagine.


	9. Chapter 9

I had fallen asleep while waiting for Aran, and I could only wish that my sleep was dreamless. I dreamt that I was laying out in a lawnchair, on a balcony, off an apartment in some tropical city. The air was warm, and I felt physically at peace. My heart wasn't pounding. I didn't feel feverish. Everything felt right.

A hand touched my face, and I looked up to see Vasquez. I kind of expected her to say something sarcastic, but she said nothing. She continued stroking my cheek, then leaned down to kiss me. I sat up in the chair, holding her and continuing the kiss. We remained there for some time, I guess, in a place where we didn't have to worry about anything. Where we weren't restricted by time. Where neither of us were going to die anytime soon.

No question I could ask would seem stupid, I hope, but I couldn't seem to say anything. Our voices seemed to have been taken away. For now, I wouldn't mind. I went in to have another kiss, only to find Vasquez was gone. Everything was gone. The balcony, the apartment, the city. All gone. The warm weather was gone, too, replaced by a gray sky, rocky terrain, and pure nothingness.

I was sitting on the ground, my heart throbbing and my head aching. Feelings of hunger began to rip into my belly, and thirst rapidly dried out my mouth and throat. I wanted to stand, but I couldn't. I felt trapped.

I jolted awake, seeing Aran kneeling in front of me with a water bottle. The dream still fresh in my mind, I grabbed the water bottle, unscrewing the cap and gulping down its contents. I drank until I thought I would burst, and then set the bottle on the floor, breathing deeply.

Aran let me breathe for a minute before handing me an electrolyte drink and a piece of bread. He sat across from me, glancing around the room. In a way, I kinda felt bad that he was watching me tear ravenously into a piece of bread, but I also figured he may've taken something for himself along the way.

I didn't finish the electrolyte drink, and, frankly, I didn't have time to. After closing the cap, Aran gestured for me to get up and follow him.

"We're not going out there, are we?" I asked, pointing to the door.

He nodded.

"Alright. I'm trusting you. Don't take advantage of that."

What choice did I have? Aran knew this place better than me. He had to bend down in order to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, and he would occasionally look over his shoulder at me. I could only assume that we were searching for a way to get outside to the ship's deck-rather, _he_ was searching for a way to get outside to the ship's deck.

We paused when we came to a glass door. Inside the door was the ship's workout center. There weren't a lot of people in there, but still plenty for us to be concerned about. I wished I didn't feel so weak, or else I'd want to go in and lift some weights or something. The realization that I wasn't fit only made me feel weaker.

The voices of two people began coming from around the corridor. Aran went across the hall, and yanked on a vent cover. With a loud _pop_ , the cover came clean off, and he pushed me inside. Taking the cover, he joined me, and tried putting it back on. He grunted in frustration as he came to the conclusion that it wasn't going to fit properly, and left it like it was.

"We are never getting out of here at this rate," I muttered.

Aran glared at me, then pushed me again, telling me to keep going. The vent wasn't that long, but I imagine it was a pain for Aran due to his size. At the other side, we were peering down into a massive pool chamber. It was empty aside from four guys cleaning the decks and diving boards. Right underneath a slanted glass ceiling were rows of fake grass, some littered with paper cups and forgotten towels. From here, it looked like a twenty- or thirty-foot drop into the pool.

When the workers left, Aran used his shoulder to shove the vent cover off. It fell, splashing into the water below, and then he followed it.

Taking a breath, I dived in after him. The water was warm, and I could only hope that the pool was cleaned regularly, otherwise, I just took a dive into the toilet of a hundred little kids. We got out of the pool, disappearing into the open locker rooms to steal some towels.

"Wasn't as refreshing as I'd hope it would be," I said. My pants were soaked, which meant my underpants were, too. I didn't want to go through the rest of the day with discomfort in the one place you don't want discomfort, so I locked myself in a stall where I took everything off and tried to wring out and air-dry them.

As I put my underwear back on, I hissed, "Aran? You still there?"

Well, I didn't hear that two guys had entered the locker room, and one of them said, "Who're you talking to?"

I held my breath. "My . . . friend was in here just a minute ago."

"I didn't see anybody leave."

 _Dammit, Aran, where'd you go?_ I pulled my pants back on, infuriated and confused. I was about to storm out of the stall when I heard a punch, followed by a grunt. A moment later, the stall door opened, and Aran was glaring at me.

"Don't you know how to knock?" I asked after seeing the two guys unconscious on the floor.

He nodded, and then grabbed my arm to pull me out of the stall.

* * *

I was beginning to get the feeling we were lost, and I was worried that we were going to get caught soon. As we continued sneaking around, I had the feeling that I wasn't cured yet of the toxic discharge; I had the shakes and there were times where my limbs felt weak. A fever would randomly spike, and my stomach would give such a hard lurch that I needed to kneel and puke. Everything came up-the bread, the water, and the electrolyte drink, giving my stomach contents a rather bright and unnatural pastel-type color.

When I threw up, Aran didn't push me anymore. We stayed where we were, and he had his hand on the back of my shoulders in a reassuring fashion. He waited until my breathing was a little more even, then gently scooped me up. I knew that by this time, the other Marines probably found out I was gone, and I was hoping they assumed I was with Delhoun. Then again, if they contacted Delhoun, he would tell them I wasn't there, and they're going to send out a search party. I could only hope they assumed I wandered off out of delirium from my fever, but I was also wondering what they'd think if they found my bootprints alongside the giant ones of the Engineer.

I was so busy concentrating on the nauseous churning of my stomach and the weakness throughout my body that I hardly noticed the sunlight as we emerged onto an isolated deck of the cruise ship. Aran carefully set me down before looking over the railing to see we had docked in Brisbane. I half-expected him to pick me up again and start trying to find a way off the ship, but he let me sit for a few minutes, watching me. He then took the notepad out, writing a single question. " _Can I get you anything?_ "

I groaned, shaking my head.

He sat next to me, and I could sense he was mildly frustrated that we weren't moving forward. I wanted to tell him it wasn't my fault this happened, but, thinking about it, it really was my fault. Everything was.

Tears began rolling down my face, and the urge to cry only made the pain and nausea worse. "You can be mad at me if you want," I said, a large lump starting to form in my throat. "I'm the idiot who blindly ran into the room with all those fucking flowers. I'm the idiot who got myself in trouble because I threatened to hit an android." I sobbed. "And I'm the idiot who got myself thrown in juvie because I thought I could get away with stealing a damn car."

Aran didn't hesitate to write his response. " _I'm not mad at you._ "

That was all he wrote. At first, I thought he was going to tell me about how my low self-esteem isn't healthy, but . . . this? Why this? "Why aren't you mad at me?" I asked.

" _Do you want me to be mad at you? You've given me no reason to be mad at you. You're sick. That's all."_ Aran gave me a sympathetic look. He was pondering something, and then wrote, _"No one's ever listened to you or given you a chance, have they? You seem to be keeping a lot in because you're afraid of something. A reaction? Others around you thinking you're weak? Are you placing high standards on yourself?_ "

I damn near burst into hysterical crying. "It's a mix of . . . everything you've written here." I hugged my knees, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. "I mean, do you know how it feels to . . . to keep pushing and pushing and pushing yourself until you're not even sure if you went past your limits?"

" _Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I was doing that all the time when I was younger. I was a bit of an outcast, and there's a part of me that regrets that. I did it to myself, and even prided myself on it. I've noticed some humans do that, and, in a way, I feel sorry for them because of what I went through. I'm not very creative, nor am I destructive. When I grew up, I just wanted to see what was out there. In fact, going to the ice planet and finding the Annexers was my first real adventure, made better by the fact that one of them bonded to me. You may know her as Dakota, but my name for her was Lilac, because her eyes were the color of that Earth flower. She was very small, almost a baby, and I was terrified of hurting her. I couldn't stay there for long, though, because I was hitchhiking around the galaxy on freighters and hospital vessels and luxury cruisers, and I couldn't miss any of my rides. I couldn't take Lilac with me; she was too young. I left her, and now she's changed in the most unpleasant way._ "

I glanced at Aran. "So, you regret not taking her with you?"

He nodded.

I could see how he was trying to relate our pasts together, even though he didn't know until recently that Dakota had been kidnapped and used for dogfighting. It was still a regret.

" _At the time, I didn't know how lonely traveling around space was going to be. Even when I was hiding out on ships full of people, I couldn't do anything. In a way, I was scared, and I shouldn't have. I was scared and lonely, and that started overtaking my physical needs._ "

I snorted. "Dear God, I can relate to that."

" _I've noticed._ "

I turned to glare at him. "I'm aware; no need to point it out."

" _Well, I'm trying to say that dwelling on the past and pushing yourself too hard to prove something you're unsure of isn't going to help you. If anything, it's making your situation worse._ "

"Again, I'm aware of that." I sighed. "I just don't know what to do about it."

Aran was about to put pen to paper when we heard someone say, "I'm gonna check this deck out here. Make sure no one didn't get the message that we docked." A doorknob clicked, and Aran picked me up. He peered over the railing before swinging his leg over, and then looked down at the water below. Without a second thought, he dropped me.

* * *

This was the second time in a day I had my clothes become soaking wet, and I was already tired of it because I didn't have anything dry to change into.

Being dropped into the Brisbane harbor probably wasn't the best idea considering I had thrown up a half-hour earlier, but Aran didn't have much of a choice. Once we were safe in the city, the first thing we did was head to Delhoun's facility, and I was hoping that Delhoun would have some kind of explanation for why I felt like shit despite being given something that was supposed to assist my body in ridding itself of the silver flower toxin.

As we prepared to jump a fence in an alleyway, we heard a cheerful squeak, and turned around to see an Annexer perched on the lid of a trashcan. I could only assume it was Winnie, because no other Annexer (maybe aside from Little Shit) would greet me so happily. When she hopped down from the trashcan, I saw she was dragging a leash around her neck.

I got on my knees, letting Winnie stand on her hind legs to touch my shoulders and sniff me through her mask. "Did you escape?" I asked, picking up the leash. "Is Delhoun wandering around Brisbane looking for you?"

I guess Winnie expected me to greet her warmly, talking to her like a dog and saying "Who's a good girl?" and stuff like that, but she's smarter than that. She jumped onto my shoulders, gently snaking her tail around my neck. It was at that moment that Delhoun came sprinting into the alley. He saw Winnie before me (or Aran, for that matter), and started yelling at her. "Don't you ever pull away from me like that again, young lady! You could've been hit by a car or stolen or _something!_ "

Winnie grunted at him.

Ruby eyes flicking from Winnie to me, Delhoun said, "At least someone reasonable found you." He took a breath. "Sorry about that, Drake. I didn't know you were going to be around town, especially since I heard you were bedridden with toxic discharge."

"Well, I'm not here by choice," I said, jerking my thumb in Aran's direction.

I didn't think Delhoun could get any paler than he already is, but he became about as white as Aran when he locked eyes with the giant. His hands flew to his mouth, like he was going to cover a scream, and he said, in a shaky whisper, "Drake . . . this is a real . . . living . . . Space Jockey! Oh my God, I thought I'd never see one with my own eyes!"

I rolled my eyes. "Delhoun, he came here because he wants Dakota. Apparently, she bonded to him when she was a baby and he's been looking for her for years."

"How did you figure this out?"

"He can write English."

Aran looked a little intimidated by Delhoun until he heard what Delhoun had to say next: "Right. Right. OK, I'll take the both of you to my facility, so we can discuss this more in private."

* * *

 _Author's Note: One long messy chapter, I guess. This feels a bit like a filler, and I don't know if that's a good thing or bad thing. On one hand, you might enjoy the development and interactions between Drake and Aran. On another hand, you might want the plot to just kick in already so we can see if Dakota becomes tame.  
_

 _Things that play out in your head don't always translate well to writing. I really struggled in describing the interior of the cruise ship our two goofball heroes stowed away on, but everything I wanted to write out became too drawn out an unnecessary; I'm an amateur author, not a movie set designer! I definitely think the scene in the pool room should have been longer, only because the image of an eight-foot-tall Engineer pushing a five-foot-eleven Colonial Marine out of a vent is funny.  
_

 _Aran is a bit of a passive-aggressive character, especially before he opens up to Drake about hitchhiking around the galaxy. If anything, I should probably start drafting a story about some of his adventures (if anyone's gonna read that, though), but I'm still going to continue working on Drake's stories. One question remains: if I do write stories about Aran, do I categorize it under "Prometheus 2012" or "Aliens/Predator?" Or both?_


	10. Chapter 10

Delhoun hoped that Aran would actually be the key to taming Dakota. I privately hoped so, too, but I also hoped that Dakota didn't claw Aran's face off.

After his Working Joe android opened Dakota's cage, Delhoun gestured for Aran to go into the room. The whole time, I noted Aran looked a little uncomfortable, like he wasn't so sure he was ready to do this, and a pang of guilt began tugging in the pit of my stomach.

Dakota stuck her head out of the cage. She shrieked upon seeing all the people in the room, and arched her back as Aran approached her. He held his hand out, saying something in his own language. His voice wasn't unlike that of a human, save for its deepness. Dakota hissed at him, digging her claws into the bottom of her cage. Aran took a breath, his hand still out.

I didn't flinch when she swiped at him, because I knew she was going to do that at one point or another, no questions asked. Black blood was welling from three fresh cuts on Aran's hand. He was wincing, but he didn't look like he was going to back down. He held out his other hand, and this time, Dakota didn't attack. Her back began lowering, and she lifted her head.

Aran moved a little closer, again talking in his language. Dakota backed up, making a strange and threatening hissing-click sound, before screaming at him.

Actually . . . she was screaming at me.

Delhoun tapped my shoulder, and led me out of the room. "Sorry, Drake, but you're going to have to wait in my office."

"Why?" I grumbled.

"Dakota can smell your fever. That's why she made that clicking sound."

"Why on Earth does she give a fuck that I have a fever? And why does that mean I should leave?"

"It's natural for Annexers to analyze the health of humans around them. If they sense something's wrong, they give a message to other Annexers regarding it. Dakota was likely warning her babies about you. Now, why I want you to sit in my office is because you're causing a distraction to Dakota." Delhoun made me sit in a chair near his desk. He gave me a glass of water, and left, closing the door behind him.

I know it's not Delhoun's fault that I'm a distraction. Obviously, there was no other way for him to word it, but I still felt bad. I felt like it reflected my position in life: pointless, not meant to be here, and unhealthy. I sat alone, my heart starting to ache.

It hadn't been very long when the phone on Delhoun's desk rang. I contemplated just ignoring it, but I picked it up out of boredom.

Surely, I'm gonna regret it because all my curiosity does is get me in trouble.

"Hello?" I said. "Delhoun's not here."

"He's not? I'll have to call back later." The voice on the other line was strangely familiar.

"I can take a message."

The man paused, and then said, "Private Drake? Is that you I'm hearing?"

"It is."

"Oh, wonderful! This is Doctor Hornby. I treated your toxic discharge, remember?"

"No, you didn't," I snorted. "I've been puking and my fever shot up this morning."

"I _did_ treat your toxic discharge, Private. You're experiencing the side effects of it. They are considerably worse given you went such a long time without proper treatment, I'm sorry to say. You should begin to feel relief within the next four or five days. Remember, though, you're barred from hypersleep for a month."

"I know," I said. "I'm well-aware."

Hornby sounded disappointed. "Please, understand I'm trying to help you out. Your sergeant should've sought treatment for you as soon as you were returned to your unit. Or, you should've stayed in the orbital hospital longer. This isn't easy for anyone; the research on this metallic flora is recent and we're trying to learn as much as we can so we can prevent incidents like this in the future."

I was tempted to just hang up, because I had a gut feeling that Hornby wasn't trying to help me, but I decided to listen.

"As I said, it's going to be a few days before you start to feel any real relief. For now, I have some tips that might help you until then." Hornby disappeared from the phone for a minute, then returned. "OK. The best thing you can do is sleep, drink lots of fluids containing vitamin C and antioxidants, as well as water, and avoid eating heavy."

"So, treat it like the flu."

"Exactly."

"Yeah, alright." I sighed. "What are you really looking to do here, Doc?"

"What?"

"I said, what are really looking to do here? Are you trying to help me, or am I an unintentional guinea pig?"

"No! You're not a guinea pig!" Hornby laughed like I was being a silly child. "I can understand where this is coming from, Drake, but, I assure you that I'm not looking to delay your condition. This is all accidental, and we're trying to find a way to study the silver flower without hurting anyone-"

"Doctor Hornby? Can I talk to you for a second?" A new voice was heard, sounding like it had just entered whatever room Hornby was in. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" The voice was vaguely familiar, and I was trying to pinpoint where I heard it before.

"Sure, Carter! No, I'm not doing anything overly important. Just finalizing my appointment with Rykell later today." Hornby didn't bother putting the phone on its hook. He must've left it on the table or something like that.

"Listen, when you meet with Doctor Delhoun later, please tell him that you both are receiving cuts in your budgets if you can't produce something significant in your research. Otherwise, we're transferring that money back over to Bioweapons."

Hornby fell silent. I could hear him giving a sad sigh. "I need time. Carter, the silver flower . . . it could be a much more effective tool than the . . . the alien. It costs almost nothing to maintain. It's very adaptable to its environment. I can train people to grow it and it'll be much less risky to care for than-"

"This isn't my doing. I'm sorry. If you can produce well-defined research regarding the flower within the next six months, maybe we can convince the higher-ups to slide you some more funding, OK?"

 _That's_ why the voice was familiar. It was Burke, the Weyland-Yutani exec who gave Delhoun those two weeks of vacation for catching the intruder on the hospital station.

"Whatever you say," Hornby replied, sounding defeated. After Burke left the room, Hornby picked up the phone. "Drake? Are you still there?"

"Yeah," I said, yawning. "What else do you want?"

"N-Nothing. Pass this on to Delhoun: I'm coming by his facility around four-thirty this afternoon to pick him up for our dinner appointment. That's all. Feel better, Drake."

* * *

I had to wait until Delhoun returned to his office, trailed by Aran, before I could say anything. Poor Aran was all scratched up. Dakota had cut his left cheek and both hands, and even tried scratching his armor, which was covered in white lines from where her claws made contact. He looked disappointed, which told me he didn't get very far with taming Dakota, as he sat in one of the chairs near the door.

"Everything alright, Drake?" Delhoun asked.

"Yeah. Doctor Hornby called and said he's coming over at four-thirty," I replied.

"Good. We're going to the seaside steakhouse for dinner," Delhoun added. "You can come along if you want."

"He said I shouldn't be eating heavy while I'm recovering," I muttered.

Delhoun frowned. "Well, you need to eat regularly. Not everything at a restaurant is heavy, and you need to eat with people."

"Why?"

"It's better for your digestion. Eating when you're sad or upset slows it down and could lead food to just sit and rot in your stomach, which isn't healthy."

I rolled my eyes.

"Drake, when was the last time you actually sat and had a decent meal with people who care about you?"

"I . . . can't remember."

"Exactly. You're coming with us." Delhoun picked up a small stack of papers. "I'll be back."

I sighed, turning to face Aran. He was looking down at his lap and his bleeding hands; tears were rolling down his face. I dragged my chair over to him, sensing he felt like a failure, a feeling I was all too familiar with. I can't imagine searching for something for fifteen years only to have it outright reject you.

Given that I was a bit of a grumpy sumbitch ever since the ungodly hour Aran pulled me out of my bedroom, I figured he needed some appreciation for what he's done for me, and I put my arms around his neck. I don't hug. Ever. Yeah, I hug Vasquez, sometimes, and that's a different situation. I think I can assume Aran is more driven by his emotions than he thinks he is, so I appealed to that by hugging him.

Aran gently hugged me back with one arm, slowly rubbing my shoulders in the process. I had the impression that it had been awhile since he experienced friendship or even brotherhood. No, I didn't regard him as a brother, but I feel like he wanted that. He needed that. Maybe I needed it, too.

"It'll be OK," I whispered. "Everything'll be OK. Dakota . . . Dakota will come around to you, eventually."

Aran's hug became tighter. I could practically feel my heart throbbing against his armor. His tears were dripping from his face and into the fresh T-shirt I stole from Delhoun's private quarters. My back was soon completely soaked.

God, I did not want to leave Aran there alone, but I didn't think Delhoun wanted him accompanying us to the restaurant. I had to respect that, and not make things more complicated than they already were. I slowly pulled away from Aran, and took note of the fact that there was blood on my shoulders from his scratches. He ruffled my hair, and paused, clutching my forehead. Taking his hand away, he pulled out the notepad, and wrote, " _You're still feverish._ "

"I know," I said. "I was told it's going to be maybe five days before I start to feel better." My mind abruptly cramped when I thought about my conversation with Hornby. Should I tell Aran what I heard? Weyland-Yutani made him angry, but I don't think he was irrational about it. With that in mind, I told him everything. I think he was struggling to mentally translate, because he was jotting down some of the things I said and quietly read them to himself. Despite that, he received the message clearly.

" _I don't know who Carter Burke is, but I agree with you and Doctor Delhoun that he shouldn't be trusted. I've seen a lot of scientists lose their jobs because of this obsession with the Xenomorph-typically, they're good men with good intentions. Innocent, with a passion for their fields. Many of them just want to help others or explore. I would give Hornby a chance, but I hope he doesn't lose himself in trying to keep his job. Keep an eye on him, and talk to him. Make him feel like he has someone behind him. That usually keeps people on the right path, at least, that's what I've observed_." Aran glanced at me as I read, black eyes flicking from me to the notepad.

I shrugged. "If you think talking to him and making him feel like he's not alone will keep him on his rocker, then . . . I'll give it a try." I rubbed my face, a sudden wave of tiredness crashing over me like a tidal wave. "Jesus, I could do with a cup of coffee right about now. Maybe two cups, since I have no idea when I'm going to bed."

That brought a small smile to Aran's face. He was about to write something, but decided against it. He sighed, the smile suddenly fading, before he put pen to paper. " _You're not the first human I've made friends with, but you are the first human to make me think a lot more than I usually do._ "

"What the hell does that mean?"

" _Means I consider you a much closer friend than others. You have a storied past, and you're experiencing an emotional turmoil I've never seen before in humans_." I was about to say something, but Aran held up his hand, telling me to wait until he finished writing. " _I want you to know that you're more important than you think you are. Frankly, I'm sick of hearing you beat yourself up. You don't deserve that. Maybe you don't have people to turn to when you're frustrated, but that doesn't give you the right to blame everything on yourself. I know sometimes it feels like everything's your fault, but know that it isn't._ "

I was silent. My heart began to ache again, and I looked down at my lap. There was no way of making Aran quit. He really wanted me to feel better about myself and my past. Honestly, that's easier said than done. I don't know how to cope with my past. I don't know how to just . . . accept what happened and move on. I don't _want to_. Why should I? Whether it was a stroke of extraordinarily bad luck or not, I can't just accept what happened and move on.

I'm so plagued by guilt, it's causing me pain.

And Aran could see that. I had covered my face and started sobbing, overcome with a desire to purge myself of all guilt and regret. I hated myself so much. I had no accomplishments, just disasters. Aran put his hand on my shoulders again, rubbing them gently.

Minutes felt like hours. I eventually looked up at Aran, letting him see how broken I was. He didn't seem to mind, in fact, he tried drying my tears with a tissue. Sighing, I said, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

He shook his head, probably telling me he didn't care. I noticed the cuts on his hands had stopped bleeding, and that he hadn't paid much attention to them.

We sat in the room for a long time, and I'm unsure how long that time was, nor do I care. I was tired, and struggling to take Aran's advice to heart. I didn't have much time to consider it when Delhoun re-entered the room, telling me that Hornby had arrived and was waiting for us. I glanced at Aran, who said and did nothing as I left. He didn't seem to mind that I was leaving. At least, that's the impression I had.

* * *

Hornby was a little surprised that I was joining them, but Delhoun insisted I did for the sake of my health. He and Hornby talked the whole drive to the restaurant about nothing that interested me, and I was beginning to think this wouldn't be as good for my health as Delhoun assumed.

They had made reservations the day before, and a young waitress led us to the table, which had a view of the Pacific. I gazed longingly at it, that feeling of loneliness creeping up on me and trying to sit on my shoulders as it thought of a way to crawl into my heart.

This was the first time I had really seen Hornby. The last time was when I was hovering between conscious and subconscious states. All I remembered was that his eyes were green. He was better built than Delhoun, and definitely looked younger and less stressed, though, after hearing his conversation with Burke, that was probably going to change. His hair was a light brown color, and appeared to be neatly brushed in the front. He had a nervous habit of running his fingers through it before picking up his drink and taking a sip.

Delhoun spent a long time trying to decide between wine and whiskey, and as much as I wanted alcohol myself, both doctors said "no." When he finally made a decision, Delhoun turned his attention to me. "How have things been going for you, Drake?"

I didn't reply right away. "Fine," I lied.

"Oh, be honest."

I sighed. "I'm fine, but not a hundred percent fine."

"I see. At least you're going to be fine in a matter of days."

Hornby nodded, not looking up from his menu.

"Can we talk about something else?" I groaned, rubbing my face. "You're doing a terrible job at not making me feel like a guinea pig." I looked at Delhoun. "Tell me about what happened with Aran and Dakota."

"What is there to tell you? She scratched him and yelled at him. I honestly don't know what more he could've done to tame her other than have her get his scent. Obviously, she was close enough to where she could smell him, but she rejected him. Given that they supposedly bonded, it looks as though Dakota's experience caused her to turn away from it. Bonds between Annexers and people-and in this case, Engineers-are notoriously hard to break. I don't think she's going to go back to him." Delhoun set his menu down. "What makes matters worse is that you, Drake, barely tried when it came to attempting to connect with Dakota."

I frowned. "I connected with her babies."

"Yeah? And she still hates you."

"You let her roam free on one of the days I had the babies in the gym, and she didn't even bother observing! All she did was stalk me while I was in the bathroom!"

"You still hardly tried! I don't want to put her down!" Delhoun slapped the table, and pointed at me. "I can't take your bloody moping seriously when you can't do one simple thing I ask of you!"

"I've been sick!"

"Guys-" Hornby's eyes widened, and he tried sticking his hands between me and Delhoun over the table. "Please don't fight here."

"I honestly thought we were friends," I said, ignoring Hornby.

"I did, too. I thought we shared a similar interest in Annexers."

"Well, guess what, genius: I don't! The only reason I know what I do is because I was stuck with them an icy hellhole, and then I was stuck with _you_ for three weeks because I'm an absolute moron when it comes to my-"

"Emotions. We know," Delhoun hissed. "Boo-fucking-hoo."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Here I thought Delhoun forgot about my outburst a few days ago, and he was bringing it back up. Then again, he was probably right; I've hardly done anything he wanted me to do when I first went to his facility. All I've done was play with the offspring of an insanely aggressive animal. I didn't even manage to train them to obey simple commands or use a litter box properly.

Even worse was the fact that Delhoun had earlier said that I needed to go out with them because it'd be healthier for me, and he ruined it.

I didn't want to say that. I've done enough damage. Pushing Hornby aside, I walked out of the restaurant. My appetite was gone, and my self-esteem plummeted, feeling like a heavy lead ball was dropped through my heart and my gut. I tore past the flower bushes that got in my way as I made my way off the restaurant grounds. As I came to the beach, I paused, watching the sky slowly turn from pale blue to deep red and orange. Sighing irritably, I waded into the ocean, sitting where the water would come up to my chest as I crossed my legs. Small waves lapped at me, and I looked down at my hands and the lower half of my body, distorted by the water's surface.

 _Maybe Vasquez was right,_ I thought, _Maybe I did change because of my experience . . . just not in the way she'd thought._ I folded my hands in my lap, wishing I was healthy, wishing I was never here in the first place.


	11. Chapter 11

I knew I couldn't sit here forever, even though that's what I wanted to do. My mind was completely flooded with thoughts, most of them self-destructive. At this point, I could imagine what Aran would say to me. He'd tell me I needed to be the bigger person and actually talk to Delhoun about all this, but I knew I wasn't mentally ready for that.

I should be. I mean, for God's sake, I'm a grown man. I shouldn't need to worry about managing emotions. Why do I even have them if I can't be responsible for them?

My thoughts turned to when Vasquez and I first met in juvenile prison. I can remember it like it was yesterday. I can remember she wasn't like the other female cons. I can remember there was still something human about her. She's tough, but she's smart. That was her main difference, and the fact that I was curious about her.

The only time the males and females ever mingled was the one day we were all allowed in the yard. There were guards everywhere, pacing with carbines. Contrary to popular belief, they weren't all that brutal. Many of them were really quiet and simply did their jobs. You had your bad eggs, but they typically had short stays; they were either fired or some nutcase caught them alone in a dusty corner.

I remember perching on the bars of a piece of exercise equipment near the fence when a young lady with really short dark hair walked over and hopped up to grab the pull-up bar next to me. She glanced at me once, saying, "What're you doing? Some freaky meditation shit?"

That and her accent was what sold me. I gave her a charming grin before saying "no," and explaining that I was working on my balance. Take note that crouching on a bar while maintaining your balance will give you some serious pain in your legs for the next several days.

She continued doing her pull-ups, occasionally looking at me like she expected me to do something. "You're not gonna beat me up?"

I frowned. "No. Why the hell would I do that?"

"Because that's usually what the creepers in the back do; they wait, and then they grab you."

"Maybe I'm not a creeper, then," I replied.

To this day, I still remember the look she gave me after we talked to each other for a few minutes. She had been analyzing my body language, the way I spoke, everything. I guess she realized that I wasn't lying in wait for anyone, and I was just sitting there, being a loner and thinking more than acting. When our conversation ended, she was staring at me with wide, deep brown eyes and slightly parted lips, like she was fascinated and interested in me.

We didn't see each other for another week. Then, we talked again. I hadn't thought much about her since our first encounter, but she did. I could tell that she was trying to conceal some mild anxiety, like she knew liking me was wrong in this setting. Once I could tell Vasquez was harboring some form of interest in me, I became conflicted. A relationship in prison seems like the shit of poorly written books, but I was bored, and I had way too much time alone with my thoughts. All that time became a breeding ground for my emotions. A festering, disgusting breeding ground. I let my emotions run free. Anger and sadness were yanking on my brain. Sometimes, they'd grab hold of my heart and attempt to squeeze it, and happiness would try to make a nest in there. They'd drip their poisons into my stomach and take away my appetite.

The worst of all of them was love. I have, well, a love-hate relationship with love. Everyone experiences love differently. It's like water: it takes the shape of whatever container it's in. That container happened to be me. As time passed on, Vasquez and I were slowly falling in love, but we never fully realized it until we were about to be sent to boot camp. Even then, despite being much closer and seeing each other more often, it was hard to really sit and talk about how we felt about each other.

I wish there was a better way to put that. It wasn't like we were going to sit and have a conversation and everything becomes cutesy and we kiss and hug and all that. That didn't happen, though we did manage to sit and talk when we were nearing the end of our smartgun training. I was honest with her. She was honest with me. We swore we'd never tell this to anyone. Don't get me wrong-we've had small, romantic moments. Some were more intense than others. Those were the ones where my emotions were most exposed. I was open with Vasquez about how I was feeling, maybe more open than I should have been. She was open with me and only me, and she's pretty damn good at maintaining her composure around others.

Me? Not so much. I struggle with my composure at times, and I wish I didn't.

I don't blame Vasquez for that, though. Not after we've had such a mutual relationship for so long. I blame myself and my recklessness with my emotions. I should have been more careful.

I know Aran would tell me not to blame myself, but he wasn't there.

As I sat thinking, I pondered each of my relationships. They were all connected by a single factor: I had to cut my heart and let some emotions bleed out for them to see. That's how all relationships work, right? You can't build anything unless you let the other person see who you really are and how you feel.

As I'm reading this, I'm wondering if I'm repeating myself, but I can't figure out what exactly I'm repeating. I need to better control myself, blah, blah, blah. I've probably written that a thousand times over in every single journal, and I probably won't stop until I finally come to terms with myself . . . which probably won't happen.

In this case, being alone, on the beach, with my thoughts did help a little. I guess it all depends on what thoughts you have when you're alone. I told myself I needed to go back and apologize to Delhoun. I needed to tell him how much this was bothering me. I needed to ask him for help. Maybe asking for help rather than blowing up would get me a better response.

I stood up from the water, and ignored the fact that my clothes were wet as I marched back up the beach. As I did, I heard a cry. Not a human cry, but an animal cry. I paused, listening. It was a harsh wail, almost a scream. I walked in its direction, away from the restaurant. Whatever-it-was cried out again. I was amazed I could hear it among the traffic and the people of Brisbane . . .

It sounded like it was coming from an abandoned apartment building across the street from the restaurant. I walked up to the door of the lobby, and I smelled something strange and familiar. It was cold, and I felt a tightening sensation in my lungs. My heart skipped a beat, and a lump formed in my throat. I almost wanted to cry as horrid memories flashed across my vision. _No, I'm not going in there. No, not if those fucking flowers are in there!_

But, someone in there needed help. Just as I did.

* * *

I took a cab back to Delhoun's facility, where I grabbed a gas mask and a big ol' .45 handgun, just in case. I didn't see Aran, and I wondered if he had left the grounds. Part of me didn't think he'd leave without saying good-bye, but I had no time to look for him at the moment. After shoving the gun in my belt, I ran back outside, jumping into the taxi and ordering the driver to go back to that street.

Pushing out of the vehicle, I began fitting the mask on my head. With the straps tightened and the filter functioning, I used my shoulder to shove my way into the old building. I could still hear whatever-it-was wailing, and I sprinted up the stairs in the center of the lobby. The air was probably saturated with the toxin of those flowers, and I was glad I wasn't moronic enough to have simply ran in with no protection.

The call grew louder as I continued up the stairs, and I came to a floor that looked as though it had recently gone under renovation. Every wall that separated the individual apartments was gone, replaced by rows and rows of growing silver flowers, dimly lighting the floor.

I saw the glowing red eyepieces of an Annexer's helmet. It was crouching next to a crumpled figure, and as soon as it saw me, it cried out that same harsh wail I heard earlier. I was certain it was Winnie, and I ran toward the figure lying on the ground.

"Oh my God, _Hudson!_ " I shouted, after moving the figure on his back.

It was Hudson alright. His eyes were wide, covered with blood vessels, and he was struggling to get a breath in. His pulse rifle was lying next to him, as was his helmet. He was shivering violently, and tried to reach up to me with shaking hands.

"Can you hear me?!" I yelled, panic beginning to cloud my thoughts.

That was a dumb question. Hudson tried drawing in a breath, but started choking instead. Saliva ran down the sides of his mouth, and he clawed at me, a horrific hacking sound coming from the deepest parts of his throat.

"Dammit," I grunted as I tried to fling him over my shoulder. Any longer in here, and he was going to die. The Annexer followed, whining as it went.

Another horrific sound came from Hudson, this one akin to retching. It didn't take me long to realize he was going to choke on his own vomit, so I put him on the ground and whacked his back, hard. When that didn't do anything, I wrapped my arms around his belly, and tried performing the Heimlich. Eventually, I managed to force everything out of his throat, but that didn't mean he could breathe. I swiftly picked him up again, running outside and dropping him in the grass.

 _Is this what I looked like when Delhoun dragged me out of the lab?_ I needed a first-aid kit. I probably needed a defibrillator. I felt powerless as the daylight revealed Hudson was still foaming at the mouth. He was convulsing, grabbing at his neck and chest. Panic had cleared my brain of all self-destructive thoughts, and I ran across the street, barging into the restaurant. "Delhoun! Some building across the street's loaded with silver flowers! Hudson walked in it and he can't breathe!"

Both Delhoun and Hornby got up, following me outdoors. By now, several people had seen Hudson lying in the grass, and I spotted Hicks and Vasquez among them.

"What the hell happened?" Hicks asked, pushing through the crowd to get to Hudson.

"Don't get too close!" Delhoun yelled.

"Sir, that's-"

"Don't argue with me! I need a first-aid kit."

Hicks handed over his kit, and Delhoun pulled out a small, portable EKG. He ripped off Hudson's shirt, taping the electrodes to his chest. "Someone, hold him still," Delhoun ordered. A long, steady beep was heard, and Delhoun cursed out loud. He continued to curse as he administered CPR, and then hollered for someone to call an ambulance.

I was feeling faint as I watched. The panic had morphed into flashbacks of when I was hovering in and out of consciousness after breathing in all that toxin . . .

" _Drake!_ " Vasquez yelled when I was seen collapsing.

"Fuck this, I need a defibrillator!" Delhoun shouted. "Can everyone just step back for a minute?!"

Vasquez began shaking me violently. "Everything's OK! You're thinking too much! Don't tell me you breathed it in, too!"

We were joined by Apone and Bishop, who was immediately shoved away by Delhoun. "Are you insane?! You'll get damaged by the defibrillator!"

"Dammit, Doctor, we're trying to get Hudson out of here!" Apone yelled.

Delhoun wasn't listening. "Clear!" He slammed the paddles against Hudson's chest.

"Sir," Bishop said as Hudson began displaying a pulse again, "we need to get him to an ICU."

"Are you treating me like I'm mentally stunted?!" Delhoun growled. He was clearly angry over everything going on, and he became very flushed. "I know what I'm doing!" He argued with Bishop until an ambulance finally arrived to take away Hudson, and then continued ranting at him until Apone pushed them apart.

In the meantime, I was still sitting upright with Vasquez kneeling next to me. She was letting me sip water from her canteen, but I couldn't stand. Someone asked if I needed to get in the ambulance as well, but Delhoun was saying that I was just suffering anxiety from the fact that I had gone through this-twice. I was amazed at how Delhoun lost his composure; he was screaming at everyone and letting everyone know he had this under control, but it was difficult to believe that after awhile.

When Apone said we were all going back to base, Hicks scooped me up, putting my left arm around his shoulders. He didn't say anything until we were loaded into the transport helicopter, and whispered, "I think you may've saved Hudson's life."

* * *

The dizziness didn't go away until an hour later. I was propped up in sick bay, with a tray of bland food and water that one of the medics said would give me some strength back while going easy on my stomach. I had no appetite, but I ate a little bit just to get the medics to leave me alone.

My first visitor was Bishop, who, as you may have guessed, didn't look too happy considering Delhoun yelled at him earlier. He closed the room door behind him, and grabbed a chair to sit next to the bed. "I need to ask you some questions," he said.

"What for?" I muttered.

"Just . . . to get a clearer picture of what happened today. We were looking for you all day because I went into your quarters and found you gone."

"Yeah, about that . . . um . . . I just . . . needed a walk."

"You should've given the MPs a notice. You sent the whole base into a panic."

"I know, but, I'm beyond caring at this point." I looked at Bishop. "Am I getting a court-marshal?"

"No."

"No? I should get a court-marshal. I'm-I'm horrible, aren't I?"

"You're not, Drake, I don't know where you're getting that idea from, but, I think you need to hear the reasoning from Corporal Hicks." Bishop stood up, going over to the door and opening it.

Hicks stepped in, followed by Vasquez. He grinned at me, taking a seat next to the bed. "What's this I'm hearing about how you want to get yourself court-marshaled?"

I didn't find that funny. "Why _shouldn't_ I get court-marshaled?"

"You saved Hudson's life, Drake. You didn't hear? They have him in a support unit and he'll be taken out in twenty-four hours."

I didn't reply.

"You're gonna get a medal for this," Hicks continued. "I don't think a lot of guys who went through what you did would have the balls to risk that situation again to save a buddy." He leaned in, giving me a confused look. "You're not beating on yourself again, are you?"

Again, I didn't reply. I refused to, knowing Hicks was going to egg me on about how I needed to stop. I already had Aran do that, and I didn't need it again.

Vasquez sighed. "Can I talk to him alone? For five minutes?"

Both Hicks and Bishop turned to look at her. "Just five minutes," Bishop said.

"Just five minutes." Vasquez nodded. "No longer." Her expression didn't change, like she was trying to convince them we weren't up to any funny business.

"Alright. Five minutes it is." Bishop ushered Hicks out of the room, and closed the door behind them.

As soon as the door was shut, Vasquez backhanded me across the face. "Just accept your medal, you stubborn ass!"

I glared at her. "Why?"

"'Why?!' Because you earned it! Can't you stop feeling sorry for yourself for just . . . a day or so?!"

"I'm not 'feeling sorry for myself.'"

"Yes, you are. That's what you did when we fought. You felt sorry for yourself."

"No, I didn't. I feel guilty, but I don't feel sorry for myself. I don't feel sorry at all! Why should I?"

"Because you are!" Vasquez grabbed my shoulders, shaking me. "How many times do we all have to say 'stop' before you actually do, huh?"

"When I learn to cope with what I've done in the past, with the things I did and the things I should have done."

"You wanna hear something funny? That's exactly what Doctor Delhoun said to us before he left."

"What?"

"He told us just about everything that happened in the steakhouse before you stormed off. He said it's pretty 'evident' that you're having a hard time managing how you feel."

"So, is he . . . mad at me?"

"No. He said you should go visit him when you get out of here."

We were quiet for a minute, and I sighed as I glanced at Vasquez. "You know . . . when I was sitting on the beach, I was thinking about the day we first met."

"Why?"

"Because, for me, it was falling in love that kinda messed with my emotions. Remember how we'd find a place to sit and talk, and I made a point in telling you everything going on in my head."

"I do remember that. Wasn't sure how to react at first, but I went along with it, and eventually started to trust you with what went on in my head as well." Vasquez's gaze softened a little. "Are you saying _I'm_ the reason you don't know how to manage your emotions?"

"No. I'm just saying that I should have tread more carefully when it came to something as powerful as love. That mixed with the guilt at what I'd done to end up in juvie . . . it was just a lot for me to take in and comprehend, and I haven't learned how to wrangle it in."

Vasquez squeezed my hand tightly. "Well, I don't think it's too late to learn. Just think a little harder before you open your mouth."

I nodded. "I'll try."

The door opened, and Bishop said, "Five minutes are up," as he walked in with Hicks.

"Everything OK, Drake?" Hicks asked.

"Yeah," I replied. "When . . . When do I get my medal?"

"I'm gonna talk to Sarge about it. You'll probably get it soon after you recover." He held out his hand. "Feel better, man."

As they left, Vasquez turned to look at me, and flipped me off with a smile.

* * *

Delhoun came to the base early in the morning to pick me up and bring me back to his facility. He was quiet, up until we walked inside. I noticed Dakota's four kids sitting by the window in Delhoun's office, and Aran sitting in a chair with an Annexer I presumed to be Dakota on the desk.

Closing and locking the door behind us, Delhoun took a breath. "Drake, before I get started, we need to do some apologizing to each other."

I shrugged. "OK."

"Good. I'm sorry for not seeing that . . . your irritability was a cry for help. I'm sorry that I didn't listen, and that my desire to help Dakota clouded my mental vision."

"And I'm sorry for blowing up on you," I replied. "I need to learn how to control my emotions, and that starts today."

Delhoun offered a weak smile. "Alright. Glad that's settled. Now, Drake . . . when you went into that building, did you think the Annexer screaming was Winnie?"

I nodded.

Delhoun shook his head. "That wasn't Winnie." He pointed at Dakota.

My heart skipped a few beats. "No."

"Yes. Dakota was the one who found Hudson, but that wouldn't have happened without-" He pointed at Aran. "Aran opened her cage to try and coax her again, and she escaped. She somehow got out of the building, and must've . . . sensed Hudson's suffering."

"This makes no sense. She's . . . She's-" I couldn't seem to spit out any words.

"This is likely the first time she witnessed a human suffering to the point of powerlessness. That's the only explanation I have. It's in their nature to try to help humans or anything that looks like humans, and I guess that wasn't driven out of her."

"But, if she rejected Aran, why would she help Hudson?" I kept glancing between Dakota and Delhoun.

Dakota looked at me, giving a soft grunt. I felt my muscles tense, afraid she was voicing her displeasure and would leap on me. She didn't, though, and instead dipped her head, losing eye contact with me.

"Like I said, the best explanation I have is that she sensed his suffering and tried to assist by calling for help," Delhoun said. "Sorry. I've got nothing better."

"Well, speaking of Hudson, how is he doing?" I asked.

"All I've heard is that he's been transferred overseas."

"Overseas? To where?"

"To Washington, D.C. They have much better military and civilian hospitals compared to here, and supposedly have life support units that can allow surgeons to go in and clean Hudson's systems without risk of the fumes becoming liquid. I have no idea if that's true, because I've never seen them in action."

"That's not what Hicks told me yesterday."

"Because that was yesterday. I got word of that this morning, about an hour after I went to get you." Delhoun glanced around, and gestured for Aran and I to come closer to him. "That abandoned building wasn't exactly abandoned," he whispered, "Doctor Hornby was using it for his research. He's absolutely devastated by what happened yesterday. I haven't heard a word from him ever since."

"Shouldn't he have roped it off or put up a sign or something?" I said.

"Honestly, yeah, he should have. He probably didn't think anyone was going to go in there considering it had been abandoned for a few years. Then again, he was also upset by what Burke told him about his funding getting slashed, and he may have been hoping for an opportunity to study the silver flower's effects on a fresh victim."

"Alright, that's just fucked up, and he had no idea that anyone would go in there."

"True, but that doesn't mean someone wouldn't be stupid enough to do so."

"And Hudson's not stupid."

"We can't blame Hornby right off the bat. It was an unfortunate accident, and we need to look at everything logically."

The only sound heard for the next few minutes were a clock ticking and random squeaks from the Annexer babies. At one point, Dakota gathered them up to leave, and the ticking clock was the only sound left.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Well, that's the end of "Humidity Ghosts." I honestly liked this story a lot more than I thought I would, and I'm glad that you did, too, based on your feedback. All the guests and FoolishAliens, especially, get a special thanks for being loyal readers, and I hope you stick around for more.  
_

 _Again, I'm a bit nervous regarding Drake's past. I purposely wanted to make his first encounter with Vasquez seem like an encounter two people would make on an average day (though prison isn't exactly average). I didn't want it to be melodramatic or "they instantly fell in love" or crap like that, because that isn't how it works in real life. I've heard both "love is amazing" and "love is terrible," and I needed it to be both with Drake. His rough-and-tumble personality gives the impression that it's difficult for him to love, but love (as stated in this chapter) takes the form of whatever person it inhabits. He expresses love in a way that's unique to him and his personality, as does Vasquez.  
_

 _The primary focus of this story isn't romance, though; it's emotion and the effects they have on people who struggle to communicate how they feel in a way that allows their voice to be heard without alienating their friends and companions. I kinda wish romance stories would do a better job at this kind of psychology, especially with characters who've had a rocky past, like Drake. While Drake isn't my character, I can only hope that I've given him a backstory that Alien fans will like and feel it does the character justice for his limited screen time.  
_

 _As I mentioned in the first chapter, I'm planning to write more from Drake's perspective. I mean, I can't not continue given that I've left this story on a cliffhanger. Poor Hudson.  
_

 _Anyway, I'm not sure when the first chapter of the next story will be up. Probably this coming weekend. Until then, enjoy this story. Happy reading. - Cat_


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